Chemical Error
by Thoughtful Constellations
Summary: When Alaska Clark comes home to find a wounded man in her apartment, she knocks him out with an iron skillet. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, has a broken arm & doesn't know who he is. As he heals, he puts together the pieces of who he is & who he once was. Most of all, he finds himself falling for Alaska, the woman with all the answers & the iron skillet. Bucky/OC
1. Intruder

**So it seems that I've written the first chapter of a Bucky/OC story. If you follow my other MCU stories, thank you so much for reading this one, and if this is your first time reading one of my stories, thank you for giving it a try! I have an Iron Man/OC series if you want to give that a try, and I also have a Captain America/OC series, so if you want to read those, feel free to give those a try, too! I also have a Black Widow origin story called _Girl, Compromised_ that's still In-Progress =)**

**Alright. Let me know what you think! I love getting reviews and reading what you guys think. They also keep me motivated to update quickly =)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 1

The most common misconception about the Winter Soldier is that he was, by nature, violent. In fact, it was James Buchanan Barnes's naturally laidback, passive attitude he'd picked up from someone he couldn't quite remember but swore he could that had made him so difficult to turn into the Winter Soldier in the first place. The only times he was violent were times of stress, frustration, or when he'd been assigned a mission. As soon as he got his assignment, James switched from being a sullen, passive anonymous figure into the all-encompassing, unstoppable Winter Soldier, and that was how his violent reputation was born.

After he pulled that blond man out of the water and laid him out on the sandy banks of the river, James disappeared. He went off the radar. With all the chaos of the destruction of both the helicarriers and the Triskelion, he was able to raid a clothing store without drawing any attention towards himself. He managed to get out with a pair of khakis, a bundle of black t-shirts, a pair of gloves, a jacket, and a baseball cap that he pulled down low on his head to remain anonymous. He was so used to it by now that that was how he preferred to be.

His arm bothered him like a bitch. The blond man had broken it back on the helicarrier, and even though James healed much quicker than the average human, he knew it would be some time before he was back in commission. And on top of that, he knew he needed medical attention. Being in hiding meant that he couldn't just go back to Alexander Pierce and wait for a team of doctors to set his arm properly, and so that meant he had to rely on himself for the first time ever. The Winter Soldier had never been more uncertain of anything.

* * *

"No, I really don't want to do that." Alaska Clark sighed into the phone she had pressed up against her ear. "Mom, D.C. is a perfectly safe area. What happened today was just…a glitch in the system."

"A glitch in the system? Alaska, there were helicarriers falling out of the sky. According to the news, SHIELD is no longer the safe group of people we thought they were. I want you to come home for the next few days," Cassie Clark said worriedly into the phone. Alaska suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she slowed to the door of her apartment and reached into her bag to dig out her keys.

"I can't just close down the store like that. I'm 26 years old—I can't just come running home whenever anything crazy happens. I was totally safe. My apartment is nowhere near the middle of downtown, so I'll be fine. If I feel unsafe at all, I'll come home right away, ok?" she said, keeping her voice calm and even so as not to upset Cassie any further. Silence filled her ear as her mother contemplated what to do, and then Cassie sighed.

"Promise me. Promise me you'll come home if you don't feel safe," she said finally.

"I promise. Everything is ok. Hey, I'm at my apartment now, so I'll call you back later. Tell Dad I'm safe and fine, the store's fine, and everything's fine," Alaska said soothingly.

"Alright. I will. You need to call your brother and tell him you're ok because he's been out of his mind with worry. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to know that something so horrible was happening in D.C. but to not get through to you?" Cassie asked, starting in again on the same conversation Alaska had been trying to avoid for the past half an hour she'd been on with her mom.

Truthfully, Alaska knew she should have been more panicked over the whole SHIELD terrorism attack. It had happened in the very town she lived in, and she'd been able to see the helicarriers exploding in the sky from the store. At any moment, she could have been put in danger's way, but for some reason, she wasn't scared. Her parents, on the other hand, were very scared, and she knew it would be some time before she would be able to get them to the same level of calm that she was.

Between her and her brother Shane, Alaska was the one who handled crises with an uncanny calm, always thinking logically about what to do before acting on any impulses, which was an odd contrast to how she usually lived her life: completely on impulse. Hell, that was how she'd ended up in D.C. in the first place. She'd wanted a change of scene, so she'd just packed up out of the blue and moved an hour South with little notice to her friends and family.

"I know. I can't control what they do with the cell towers, though, Mom. But I'll call Shane, and I'll let him know I'm ok as soon as I get into my apartment." Alaska found her key, and she pulled it out, inserting it into the lock and turning. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, sweetie. We were so scared. I still wish you'd come home for a few days."

"I know. Don't forget—I promised I would if I felt scared at all. I've got to go call Shane now. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll talk to you later."

Alaska slipped in the door of her apartment and shut it behind her as she balanced the cell phone between her ear and shoulder. From the darkness of her apartment, she guessed that her roommate Carlene wasn't home yet, so she went to turn the lights on when she heard a thump from in the dining room.

Alaska froze. Her heart started racing, and she held her breath. Surely she'd just imagined that sound. Surely she had not just gotten off the phone with her mom, insisting that D.C. was safe, only to come home to someone being inside her apartment that wasn't Carlene. Slowly, she inhaled and took a few steps forward, trying to be as silent as possible. Another thump sounded from the dining room, and Alaska knew that she wasn't alone in her apartment.

Silently, she crept forward the short distance to the kitchen and pulled the iron skillet off its hook over the stove. She wasn't sure what the hell she was going to do if she came face to face with someone in her house, and she wasn't even sure if she would have the nerve to use the weapon on someone, but she wasn't thinking as she took the skillet in her hand and began walking on light feet to the dining room.

She had never been more terrified in all her life. The irony didn't escape her that she was more scared over this than she'd been over the attacks today, but she didn't have much time to dwell on it because now, something was happening. Keeping her feet quiet, she rounded the corner into the dining and saw a man sitting at the table, his back to her. He was eating something—she couldn't see what—and he didn't appear to notice that she was there.

Alaska had two choices: stay still and hope that he got up and left, or move forward and attack. And without thinking, she chose the second option. Racing forward, she lifted the skillet in her hands, and she swung it hard against the back of the man's head. In a matter of seconds, he was lying on the ground, unconscious.

Several seconds passed as Alaska stared at the unconscious figure on her rug with her mouth open. This couldn't be her life now—oh, God, this could _not _be her life now, she thought frantically to herself. "Oh, my God. _Oh, my God_."

Quickly, she backed away from him and thought about what to do. She could call the cops, but even so, she wasn't entirely sure if she trusted the cops these days. If SHIELD had been overtaken by the enemy, who was to say that the cops weren't, too? She had no idea what all HYDRA or SHIELD did, but she knew that SHIELD was supposed to be the good guys, and as today had proven, the good guys weren't always good.

Yet, Alaska knew she couldn't just let the man stay there. She had no idea what the hell to do. Inhaling deeply, she tried to level out her breathing, but it wasn't doing much good for her. She wasn't the kind of person who was prone to freaking out, but she felt that this was grounds for freaking out. Running a shaky hand through her dark brown hair, she thought about what to do.

First thing was first: secure the perimeter.

* * *

A good 15 minutes later, Alaska sat on the dining room table, the skillet still in her hand as she looked down at the unconscious but now tied up man. She couldn't see much of his face since his hair was long and covering it, but she could see that he looked relatively young. Or at least that's how he looked from this angle. Carefully, she changed her position so that she could double check the ropes securing his hands behind him.

_Thank God for Girl Scouts when you were young_, she thought to herself as the knots pleased her. The man's hands were covered with black gloves, and his arms had been much heavier than she would have thought they would be, but she'd somehow managed to get him tied and herself in position to hit him over the head again if he woke up. All she had to do was keep this up until Carlene came home. Carlene would know what to do. Carlene always knew what to do.

Alaska had turned the dimmer lights up a little bit in the dining room to give her some more light without waking the man up—she wanted him to stay passed out for as long as possible—and she could see some more details about him in the low light. First off, she could see that he'd made himself a ham and cheese sandwich, and he'd been more than halfway through with it when she'd smacked him across the back of the head.

Suddenly, the man started stirring on the floor, and Alaska's heart shot up into her throat. Creeping into position, she tightened her grip on the skillet, ready to bring it down on his cranium again, and then he let out a pained moan and rolled onto his back. His brown hair fell out of his face, revealing his facial features. About to strike, Alaska lifted her hand, but then his eyes opened.

"Don't!" he shouted, his voice panicked. He looked about him, noticing that he was tied up and on the floor and that Alaska quite literally had the upper hand. Frantically, he tried to scoot away from her.

"What the hell are you doing here? Who are you?" Alaska demanded. "You have three seconds to talk, or I'm banging you over the head with this again."

"I don't know! I don't know," the man insisted. He got his legs beneath him and pushed himself back towards the wall, resting against it with wide blue eyes in Alaska's direction. "I was hungry."

"So you break into someone's apartment instead of buying some shitty ass food down the street? That's the most screwed up logic I've ever heard," Alaska snapped. She glowered at him with fiery dark brown eyes. "You're lucky all this shit with SHIELD happened today, or else I would have called the cops by now."

The man frowned, still eyeing the skillet in her hand nervously. "What?"

"SHIELD. Their headquarters being destroyed and that group HYDRA or whatever. I'm not exactly very trusting of authority figures right now." Alaska frowned back at him. "What'd you say your name was again?"

"I don't—I don't know," the man said cautiously. His wide eyes darted from the skillet to Alaska's eyes and then back down to the skillet.

"You don't know? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Alaska narrowed her eyes.

"I don't know my name. I don't…someone called me Bucky once." His voice was low and quiet, though anxiety was laced all throughout it.

"Bucky? Is that a nickname or something?" Alaska asked. Quickly, the man half-shrugged and half-shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. "I wish I did." He paused. "Yeah, it's a nickname. Short for James, I think."

Pressing her lips together into a straight white line, Alaska stared down at the man. The look of fear on his face was different than how she would have imagined if he had been caught burglarizing a house. He looked scared and nervous but in a much different way—he almost looked as though he were more scared of the skillet than he was of her. "Do you even know where you are?"

"Yes, ma'am," the man answered. His eyes flicked back up to Alaska's. "Not really."

"You're in Washington D.C. You're in my house," Alaska slowly replied. "Do you know _anything _of what's going on right now?"

The man didn't seem to hear her question. He seemed to be hung up on the fact that he now knew where he was. Taking his eyes away from her, he looked down at himself, at his clothes, and he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "That's right. D.C."

"Yeah. D.C." Alaska's grip on the skillet relaxed a little bit, and she stared at the man, though this time her look was more curious than anything. He tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position, but at the movement he made, he let out a loud hiss, his face contorting with pain. "Do you need help?"

Inside, her instinct was screaming at her that this was not how she was supposed to deal with a burglar. She was supposed to call the police and let them handle this, but here she was having a conversation with a strange man who didn't even know his own name. There was something about the way he'd looked so frightened and confused and nervous that had gotten to her, and inwardly, she was kicking herself. Her parents had always said that she was far more soft-hearted than she should have been, and their words were proving to be true just then.

"No," the man slowly answered. "I just wanted food."

Uncomfortably, Alaska moved to the edge of the table to get a better look at him. "You look like you're in pain."

The man looked at her but didn't say anything. And yet, she saw in his blue eyes that her assessment had been correct. Cautiously, without taking her eyes off of him, Alaska got off the table and moved to the dimmer switch that controlled the brightness in the dining room. Still watching him closely, she turned the dial up to bring more light into the room. The man winced and blinked several times, and that was when Alaska noticed the bruises and cuts on his face.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," the man said shortly. Panic hit Alaska hard in her solar plexus, and she took a second look at him.

"Were you involved with the D.C. battle?" she asked suddenly. "Is that where all that came from?"

The man's jaw tensed, and he shook his head. "It came from nowhere."

"That blood doesn't came from nowhere," she said slowly, shaking her head. Pausing, she ran a hand through her hair, and she took a breath. "Look. I don't know who you are, and I don't know why you're in my apartment, but you look like you've had a shitty day."

The man considered her words, and then he nodded slowly. "You could say that."

"I don't trust you. You're a stranger, and you broke into my house. But if you want, when my roommate comes home, we can possibly try to help you." Alaska knew she'd probably regret saying these words, but she couldn't turn back now. Her soft-hearted nature would be the death of her, and if that happened tonight, she knew her parents would have already called it.

"Help me?" the man repeated, and he looked at her as if he didn't understand the phrase.

"Yeah. We can help you. But I don't trust you enough to untie you right now until she comes home," Alaska said quickly. "So you don't know your name, but you think you might have been called Bucky?"

The man shrugged, and he didn't say anything.

"Ok," Alaska continued. "Well, I'm Alaska."

He gave her a weird look. "Ma'am?"

"My name. My name's Alaska," she said, giving him a look that dared him to mention the unusual nature of her name. The man blinked, and then he nodded.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Well, it sure is something to meet you, too, Bucky. James. Whoever you are."

The Winter Soldier stared up at the woman who had a stranger name than one he'd ever heard before, and for just a fleeting second, he felt as though he weren't quite as on his own as he'd thought. Even if she _had _hit him over the head with a skillet, she looked like she wanted to help him, and God knew he could use all the help he could get.


	2. Identity

**Shoutouts to fluttershypegasus1, Jo, Thatshippingfangirl14, and Eva7673 for reviewing!**

**Wow, the first chapter has been up for less than 24 hours, and this story already has 17 follows. That's the most I've ever gotten on a first chapter, so thank you!**

**I know that these introductory chapters might not be as exciting yet, but I promise next chapter will definitely have more in it. James Buchanan Barnes and Alaska will _certainly _meet again and very, very soon.**

**Keep letting me know what you think! That's always super important for these first few chapters, and I love reading what everyone has to say! =)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 2

It wasn't long before Alaska heard Carlene's key slip into the front door. She didn't take her eyes off of James, but she turned her head slightly towards the direction of the sound.

"Carlene?" she called.

"Yeah, it's me. Where are you? Why is it dark?" Carlene called back. "Are you doing one of your weird New Age things again?"

"Carlene, you'll want to come here. I'm in the dining room," Alaska said calmly, even though she didn't feel calm at all. She waited as she heard Carlene's footsteps sound through the living room and then the kitchen, and then she saw Carlene come around the corner and into the doorway with a frown on her face. As soon as Carlene saw Alaska sitting on the dining room table with a skillet in her hand, she frowned even deeper.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

"Hey, take a few more steps in here," Alaska said, still keeping her voice calm. "We've got a bit of a situation on our hands."

Carlene's face drew downwards, but she took a few more steps in and looked over to where Alaska's dark brown eyes were glued. She saw James, and she froze. "Oh, my God. What—what's going on?"

"I came home and found him in our apartment. He made a sandwich, and I don't think he's taken anything, but I hit him over the head with this." Alaska held up the skillet in her hand, noticing how James warily eyed it as if he didn't trust her to _not _him with it again.

"Why the hell didn't you call the police?" Carlene snapped frantically. "Oh, shit. You hit him over the head and then tied him up? Alaska, that's like, 50 shades of wrong."

"Well, I'm not very trusting of the authorities after the whole SHIELD incident today," Alaska said defensively. "He needs help. He doesn't know his own name, Carlene."

Carlene squinted her eyes at James. "You can't just help people who break into our apartment, Alaska."

"He doesn't know who he is, Carlene!" Alaska snapped. "He thinks his name might be James."

"He _thinks_?" Carlene stressed. Frustrated, she ran a hand over her face and backed up against the table. "Holy shit. What are we going to do?"

"He's hurt," Alaska said shortly. "Look at him. We're also talking about him like he's not even here, and that's incredibly rude. James…Bucky…how can we help you?"

"_Alaska_," Carlene angrily snapped.

"Honestly, I'm still hungry," James murmured from the floor. Alaska glanced at the sandwich on the table and then at the battered man staring up at her. She held the skillet out to Carlene.

"Take this for me, please?" she asked.

"What are you doing?" Carlene asked, but she took the skillet, anyway. Without replying, Alaska picked up the paper plate and sandwich that was sitting next to her on the table, and she got down on the floor beside James. "Alaska!"

"I'm going to untie your hands so you can finish eating your sandwich. If you make any move to hurt me, Carlene will knock you over the head with that skillet again, ok?" Alaska said calmly and levelly. James eyed her suspiciously, but he nodded and moved to the side so Alaska could get to his hands. As Alaska started undoing the knots she'd made, she noticed the look of pain on his face. "You can keep denying that you're hurt all you want, but you look like you got the shit beat out of you. What are your injuries?"

"My arm's broken," James mumbled. Alaska paused, and she gave James a hard stare.

"Your arm's broken?" she repeated in disbelief. James nodded. "You need medical help."

"It'll heal," James said dismissively. Alaska finished untying the knots, and she held out the paper plate towards him. He stared at her with his deep blue eyes, and tentatively, he reached out and took the plate from her. He carefully placed it in his lap and lifted the sandwich with his left arm and began to eat.

"You _were _in the D.C. fight today," Alaska said thoughtfully. He glanced up at her, but he kept eating. "Are you a good guy or a bad guy?"

James paused, and he gazed at her with wide, unblinking eyes. "I don't know."

"That's comforting," Carlene deadpanned. James's blue eyes turned morosely up in her direction, and he took another bite of his sandwich.

"It's not," he said.

"How did you break in?" Carlene asked.

"One of the windows was unlocked," James replied cautiously. He looked at the sandwich in his hands. "I was hungry."

"Do you know Captain America?" Alaska asked. She noticed the change in James's body language—instantly, his muscles tensed up, and he gave a short jerk as if he were going to get up, but he didn't move. Off to her left, she saw Carlene tighten her hands around the skillet.

"No," James said slowly.

"Ok, looks like you don't like him very much, either," Alaska said, and she carefully backed away from him.

"So how do you not know who you are?" Carlene asked. James turned his gaze back up to her, and he frowned, as if he were trying to remember something but couldn't for the life of him. His mouth twisted to the side, and he looked down.

"I don't know," he said.

"Are you still hungry?" Alaska asked, noticing that he'd finished his sandwich. James shook his head tentatively. "If you're hungry, you can have another sandwich."

"I'm all right," he replied. The look in his eyes showed that he didn't seem to be there with him—he looked as if he were reliving something he would rather not. Uncomfortably, he tried to push himself farther away from her, but he was backed up against the wall and had nowhere to go.

"Do you like peanut butter and jelly?" Alaska asked. Her voice was soft and gentle, the way she'd speak to a wounded animal. James seemed to come back to the present, and he stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you like peanut butter and jelly?" she repeated. His eyes stayed glued to her for a few seconds, and for a moment, Alaska thought she'd have to repeat the question again, but then he hesitantly nodded.

"I think so," he replied.

"Ok," Alaska said with an affirmative nod. "That settles it. I'll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You can have it now, or you can have it later."

"Alaska," Carlene snapped. Alaska turned her dark eyes back to Carlene, and she gave her roommate and best friend a warning look.

"You have the skillet," she said. "He's in no condition to try to hurt you, anyway. His arm's broken."

She walked into the kitchen, leaving Carlene in the dining room, but she positioned herself so that she could still keep an eye on her. The more time that she was around James, the more she felt sorry for him than anything. Carlene was far less trusting than she was, and really, Alaska supposed she should have been more like Carlene in that regard, but there was something in the way James just didn't have a clue as to what the hell was going on. She believed him. She didn't know what his story was or why he was here, but she believed him.

Hurriedly, she made a sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich and brought it back into the dining room. Carlene glared at her, but she didn't say anything. Alaska held the sandwich out to the strange man, and he took it from her as he gave her a surprised look.

"Thank you," he said carefully, the words sounding as if he hadn't said them in a long time.

"You're welcome," Alaska replied. "Listen. I don't want to push you to do anything you're not comfortable with, but if you want help, you're going to have to tell us a little bit more about yourself. What do you know about yourself, Bucky? James? Which would you rather me call you?"

She heard Carlene let out a frustrated, short sigh beside her, but she ignored it as she kept her gaze steady on the man in front of her. He took a hesitant bite of the sandwich she'd made, and he didn't take his eyes off of her. "James."

"Ok, James. What do you know about yourself?" Alaska questioned.

"I am in Washington D.C. Someone called me Bucky once, and I think it's short for James." He was careful not to give anything away. The two women looked down at him expectantly, and he looked back up at them. The one named Alaska had said that he was in no condition to hurt them since his arm was broken, but she didn't know the truth about who he was. He was the man the intelligence community called the Winter Soldier, not that that would mean anything to either one of the women. He knew that HYDRA had taken good care to make sure he never made the news, to make sure he remained a ghost story.

"That's really all you know about yourself?" Carlene asked. "You don't remember anything before now?"

He remembered lots of things before now. He remembered every single time he'd been put into cryo; he remembered every single time that machine had electrified his brain; he remembered making kills he hadn't wanted to but hadn't been able to control. He remembered the blond man.

"Not much," he replied.

"How'd you get those wounds?" Carlene asked.

"A fight," he answered vaguely. Alaska pursed her lips together, and she sighed.

"Honestly, I have no idea what to do," she said.

"I do," Carlene interjected. "We call the goddamn police."

"I'm sorry—am I the only one who doesn't trust authority figures right now? Carlene. SHIELD was supposed to be made up of people who were supposed to _protect _us, and it turns out there's a secret Nazi group that's been growing inside, and they're really people who want to _hurt _us. If that can happen to SHIELD, that can happen to the police. I don't trust them right now," Alaska said emphatically.

"Well, what are we supposed to do with him?" Carlene impatiently snapped. Alaska turned her gaze back to James, and she chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought.

"You're having a really shitty day, aren't you?" she asked. James paused, but then he slowly nodded. "Do you need a place to stay?"

"I can sleep outside, ma'am," he said. He didn't know why the word "ma'am" kept slipping so easily past his lips. He kept feeling like he should say it, but he didn't know where he'd learned it from.

"You don't have anywhere to go?" Carlene asked with a frown. James shook his head.

"I can sleep outside," he repeated.

"You can sleep on the couch," Alaska said slowly. "But if you so much as move in the middle of the night to take something, I swear to God, I will be out of my bedroom with this skillet faster than you can call for help. Do you understand?"

"Alaska," Carlene said, her voice low and warning. Alaska ignored her. James nodded.

"I understand," he said.

"I'm serious. I will not hesitate to knock you out again. I'm a light sleeper," Alaska said seriously. James nodded again, carefully trying to look as though he weren't any kind of danger at all. Alaska eased back, and she sighed as she folded her arms over her chest. "Alright. The couch is in there. We're going to go now, and we're leaving all the lights on, and we're taking the skillet with us."

"Ok," James managed to say.

"Do you need anything for your arm?" Alaska asked. James shook his head. "Ok. We have the skillet."

Alaska looked over at Carlene, who didn't hesitate to follow her with the skillet, pushing her on the back until they got all the way to Alaska's room. Furious, Carlene shut the door behind her, and she locked it before turning around to face Alaska.

"What the _hell _are you thinking?" she hissed. "Someone just broke into our fucking apartment, and you offered him a place to sleep?! What is _wrong _with you!"

"He's hurt!" Alaska said defensively. "Look, something's going on with him. I'm not saying we should help him every step of the way, but he needs some help for the night. I didn't get any bad energy off of him, anyway."

"You didn't? 'Cause I did. I definitely got bad energy or whatever the hell it is you're always going on about off of him. He broke into our apartment, and he took our food, and he's clearly been mixed up with something bad, or else he wouldn't look like that. And instead of calling the police, you give him a place to stay." Carlene brushed her hand over her face and closed her eyes. "You have no idea how terrifying this is to me."

"We can just knock him out if he tries anything," Alaska said. "Besides, it's not like he can even get anything of value out there. We've been living here long enough to be smart and keep our valuables in the bedrooms. Seriously, if he tries anything, we'll be able to take care of it."

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" Carlene stopped herself, and she took a deep breath before turning her fiery eyes back to Alaska. "Look. I know you're all about saving the Earth, saving animals, and saving everyone, but this is too much. This is how people get killed."

Alaska shook her head. "He needs help. He has no idea who he is, and I believe him. Whatever's going on with him right now…I don't think he's a bad person."

"What if he's HYDRA? Have you considered that?" Carlene asked. Alaska paused. "Exactly. What if he's HYDRA, and you just let in a Nazi?"

Alaska tried to think of a response, but she couldn't. All she could do was watch as Carlene took a pillow off her bed and put it on the floor, ending the conversation for the night.

* * *

James didn't sleep very well out on the couch. It wasn't that the couch was uncomfortable or that he was afraid of the two women coming out and hitting him with the skillet again—broken arm or not, he could easily disarm them. It was the paranoia that kept him awake. Every second he was afraid that Alexander Pierce or someone from HYDRA would come bursting through the door and take him alive, take him back to that goddamn chamber and freeze him up until they needed him again.

He'd snagged a newspaper right before he'd broken into the apartment, and he'd skimmed over it, reading about how SHIELD had been overtaken, and Alexander Pierce was dead. Even the knowledge that this man who'd become his most recent master—for lack of a better word—was dead wasn't enough for James. He still felt as though he were on the run.

He didn't have much of a sense of self, but he did know that he was valuable to HYDRA and the cause. In the back of his mind, he could hear Alexander Pierce telling him that his work had been a gift to the nation. Was that true? James had no idea. Everything he'd read in that newspaper had said that Alexander Pierce had been a terrorist, that HYDRA was a terrorist organization. If Steve Rogers, Captain America, had tried to stop HYDRA, maybe that meant HYDRA was bad. And yet, everything HYDRA had ever told him had been good things. He was doing _good _work, they'd said.

James didn't know what to think. He didn't know who he was, and he didn't know what he was going to do. Without a doubt, he knew that he couldn't stay here at this apartment. Neither of the women trusted him very much, and he couldn't say that he blamed them. Deep down, he felt bad for scaring them. He remembered the look in the woman named Alaska's eyes as she'd lifted the skillet over his head to knock him out for a second time before he'd stopped her. She'd been afraid of him.

By now, James was used to that look—he was used to his victims looking terrified in their last moments before he pulled the trigger. But something was different now, and he couldn't say what. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't working under orders. Whenever he had a mission, he didn't think. He just went with it. He didn't have any emotional attachment or morals to anything he did when he was on a mission, but this time, he'd been completely free of orders. He'd been free to do as he'd pleased, and he'd still managed to scare this poor woman to death.

As night turned into day, James knew he needed to leave. He didn't want to have to deal with seeing the woman named Alaska tomorrow, with having to face her after everything he'd done to her last night. As he silently stood up—what Alaska didn't know was that he could be quieter than she ever could have dreamed anyone could be—he thought about possibly leaving some kind of thank you note for everything she had done. She'd been unbelievably kind to him; he at least had enough self-awareness to know that he didn't deserve any of the niceties she'd shown him. If he'd been in her shoes, he would have killed her on the spot, he thought to himself. He froze. No, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have hurt her unless someone had given him the order to. She'd been so nice and so trusting, even though she'd been scared of him.

He silently slipped out the same window he'd used to sneak in, and he started down the fire escape. He wished he hadn't scared her.

* * *

Alaska didn't sleep very well in her room when she knew that there was a burglar out on the couch. She wasn't sure if he knew more than he was letting on, but she knew he was in some kind of trouble. On the floor, she saw Carlene toss and turn all night long, signaling that Carlene wasn't sleeping much, either. However, Alaska wasn't surprised. When she'd drifted off to a half-sleep earlier, Carlene had been furious at her, and she had a feeling that her roommate wasn't about to let this go for a while.

Finally, morning came around, and Alaska shifted in her bed, sitting up. For someone who'd only gotten maybe about half an hour of sleep, she didn't feel all that tired at all. She knew it was most likely the adrenaline still coursing through her veins after that exciting night, but she was still surprised at the lack of exhaustion she'd been expecting to feel. As soon as she sat up in her bed, Carlene sat up on the floor.

"You want the skillet?" Carlene asked. Alaska nodded.

"Yeah, I'll take it," she replied. Carlene held it out to her, and she took it from her. Nervously, she glanced at her roommate and found her gazing back at her with the same expression on her face. "Ready?"

"No." Carlene paused. "Yeah."

Slowly, Alaska unlocked the door to her bedroom, and she twisted the handle. She half-expected the strange man to be standing outside her bedroom with a knife in his hand ready to kill her, but she found the hall empty. She turned and exchanged a look with Carlene, who started motioning to her to walk out to the living room where they'd told the man to be. Alaska carefully walked down the hallway and around the corner.

The couch was empty. James wasn't anywhere in the room. Anxiously, Alaska looked all around her, checking for any place he could have hidden to jump out and attack either her or Carlene, but she found nothing. Nonetheless, she still kept the skillet tight in her hand as she looked around.

"Alaska," Carlene said suddenly. Alaska looked back and saw Carlene pointing to the open window. "I think he left."

Lowering the skillet, Alaska crossed to the window, and she looked out and down the fire escape. "I think he did, too. There's nowhere else he could hide here unless he's in your room."

"Go check," Carlene said. Alaska turned and gave her an impatient glare before handing her the skillet.

"Here. Go look. He won't be able to hurt you if his arm's broken," she said. Carlene took the skillet from her, and she disappeared to go check her room. Alaska turned and surveyed the living room, her dark eyes scanning over everything to see if it was still in place. So far, everything was exactly as she'd left it. There was no sign of anything missing or even having been moved just a millimeter. He hadn't touched a single thing. "I don't think he took anything."

"He wasn't in my room," Carlene said as she crossed back into the living room. "He's gone."

"Yeah, I think he is," Alaska said. "I wonder what was going on with him."

"I'm calling the police." Carlene's tone conveyed that there was no space for arguing, so Alaska didn't. She just watched Carlene cross to the phone and punch in the three-digit number. "Hi, my name is Carlene Bennet, and my house was broken into last night. I think he might have been involved with the SHIELD-HYDRA battle yesterday."

Alaska crossed to the couch and sat down, hugging her knees up into her chest as she watched Carlene finish out the rest of the call. She didn't blame Carlene for calling the police, but Alaska still wasn't feeling very trusting of law enforcement. HYDRA's deception had happened just around the corner, and that meant it could happen right there in her very own living room. What if the police officers they sent out weren't really police officers? Who could she trust these days?

It struck her as ironic that she'd felt more trusting towards James last night than she did towards the police officers that Carlene was reporting the incident to. She listened to Carlene thank whoever she was talking to, and then she hung up before turning to face Alaska, her face suddenly very white.

"Alaska, they're sending the government out here to talk to us," she said. Alaska frowned.

"The government? Like the police?" she asked.

"No," Carlene replied. "Like CIA, FBI, men in black suits kind of deal. They're looking for someone, and they think the guy from last night might be him."


	3. Answers

**Shoutouts to fluttershypegasus1, Jo, angel897, DoctorWho9, Methos1228, sweetpea42, and TheLadyOfSouls for reviewing!**

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**Ok, so this chapter gets a little bit more in detail, and Alaska, Carlene, and our favorite Winter Soldier meet again, though it wouldn't be for conventional reasons.**

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* * *

Chapter 3

To say that James didn't know what to do with his newfound freedom was an understatement. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been allowed to do something like this, to have this kind of control over his own life. As he wandered through the streets of Washington D.C., the brim of his baseball cap pulled low, he tried to think of something to do. It was too risky to try to leave D.C., but it was also too risky to stay; he was undeniably stuck, and he had to figure out what to do all on his own without any kind of orders whatsoever.

He'd only been wandering up and down the streets for an hour and a half when he saw the sign that gave him the push he needed in the right direction. He was walking along a sidewalk, careful not to look people in the eye, though that wasn't really that big of a problem since he generally tried to avoid that, anyway, when he happened to glance up at the right time in the right moment. Several feet away was a sign advertising the Captain America exhibit at the Air & Space Museum at the National Mall.

When James saw the blond man's familiar face on the poster, he stopped in his tracks. He'd known him, and when he'd told Pierce that he'd known the blond man, he'd been punished for it. When the blond man had been fighting him, insisting that James really did know him, he'd denied it. He couldn't rightly remember the man, but he knew he did. He stared at the poster. Maybe there would be some clue about who he was—who he had been before he'd become the Winter Soldier.

Truthfully, James wasn't a big fan of the name "the Winter Soldier." It sounded cold and violent, though technically, if he looked at the big picture of things, that was just what he was, too. The name fit the man, and how he felt about the name was also how he felt about himself, so he supposed that it was fitting. James glanced down at the name of the museum in which the exhibit resided, and he turned over his shoulder and started walking in the opposite direction.

He'd given himself his first mission.

* * *

Alaska realized how far in over her head she was as soon as she laid eyes on the two men in black suits who were now standing in her living room and giving her some pretty bad vibes. Neither of them was smiling as they surveyed both her and Carlene, their faces drawn into an expression of serious blankness. Nervously, Alaska shoved a piece of her wet, dark brown hair back behind her ear and shifted her weight.

"You're the one who hit the stranger over the head?" the taller man in the suit asked her as he turned his eyes onto her. Uncomfortably, Alaska nodded and wished that she wasn't the subject of attention just then.

"Yeah," she said. "With a skillet. Why are you guys looking for him?"

"He was involved with some government issues, ma'am," the taller one replied shortly. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest more out of discomfort than defiance.

"The SHIELD-HYDRA battle?" she asked. Neither of the men made a move to respond to her. "Is that why you're looking for him?"

"We're looking for a lot of people at this time, ma'am," the shorter man said.

"Did you say you were CIA or FBI?" Carlene asked.

"We're FBI, ma'am," the shorter said. Alaska didn't like how they sounded when they called her ma'am, and she wished they would just leave already. Carlene had spent the past five minutes telling the story of how she'd come back to find Alaska cornering James in the dining room with the skillet, and they were now starting their series of questions.

"What did the man look like?" the taller one asked.

"I'm sorry—what'd you say your name was again?" Alaska asked with a sigh.

"I'm Special Agent Connolly, and this is my partner Special Agent Franklin," the taller one said coolly. "What did the man look like?"

"He had long brown hair. Blue eyes. Looked pretty banged up," Carlene answered.

"Banged up?" Agent Connolly repeated with a frown.

"Yeah, he'd broken his arm, he said," Carlene replied.

"Did he say how?"

"No." Carlene shot a worried glance in Alaska's direction. Alaska tried not to look like she hated these FBI agents being in her living room, but she could tell by the wide-eyed look on her roommate's face that she was failing miserably at keeping her true feelings hidden.

"What did he do?" she asked suddenly. "I mean, he was in our apartment. I think we have a right to know why the FBI's out trying to find him."

"Didn't you _invite _him to stay in your apartment?" Agent Connolly asked in a blasé tone, an unimpressed look passing over his features. Alaska shifted uncomfortably again, and she nodded.

"I did," she said. "He looked like he needed help. He didn't hurt us, and he didn't take anything."

"He was involved with HYDRA, ma'am," Agent Franklin spoke up with a respectful nod. "He's done some very bad things."

Alaska couldn't help her shock. "What?"

"Trust us. We're looking for him for a reason." Agent Franklin gave her a hard look. Clearly disturbed, Alaska tightened her arms over her chest, and she didn't say anything else.

"So he's dangerous?" Carlene asked worriedly. Her eyebrows drew in close together as she processed what the FBI agents were implying. Agent Franklin opened his mouth to reply, but a thought hit Alaska, and she cut him off before he could speak.

"So how do we know that we can trust _you _guys?" she asked. "SHIELD was infiltrated. How do we know the FBI hasn't been?"

A flicker of something passed over Agent Connolly's face, and he quickly shook his head. "Ma'am, you don't have to worry about that at all. The FBI is a competent, well-organized—"

"So was SHIELD," Carlene interrupted. Silently, Alaska sent a thank you to her roommate for jumping in and backing her on this finally.

"Well, we can assure you that nothing of that nature has happened within the FBI, nor do you have any cause to worry about it happening anytime in the near or far future," Agent Connolly said confidently. Alaska pressed her lips tightly together and didn't bother to hide that she was distrustful of them. "You can trust what we're saying."

"Did the man last night tell you a name?" Agent Franklin asked.

"James. Bucky as a nickname, possibly. He didn't really know who he was," Carlene answered. Alaska felt a headache coming on, and she brought her hand up to her forehead to massage it away. This was taking much more energy than she'd originally thought. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the thought that that man from last night had needed help. Someone so genuinely dangerous wouldn't have looked at her with such…such helplessness. That was what it was. Helplessness.

"He was pretty out of it," she thoughtfully added. Suddenly, the FBI agents exchanged a look, and she knew that the pieces of information she and Carlene had just given them were significant somehow.

"Alright," Agent Connolly said. "Thank you for answering our questions. We'll keep you updated."

"Will you really?" Alaska asked. She watched Agent Connolly slowly draw in a breath as if he were trying to keep his patience under control. Vaguely, he nodded and pulled a business card out of his jacket.

"We'll try," he said. "Here. If you think of anything else we should know, you can call that number on my card."

Reluctantly, Alaska took the card, and she looked down at it disdainfully. She didn't trust these men, and she had a feeling that she wouldn't be calling them anytime soon. Standing back as she read over the information, she heard Carlene walking the two agents to the door and nicely showing them the way out. The door was barely shut behind them before Alaska started speaking.

"I didn't get good vibes off of them," she said. Carlene gave her a look and sighed.

"Neither did I," she said. "I just want to know what the hell's going on with this James guy. Who is he, and what the hell did he do?"

"Trust me. I want to know the same things." Alaska frowned and walked over to the coffee table in the center of the living room, flippantly tossing Agent Connolly's business card on it. "Fuck them. I didn't get to do my morning yoga because I had to be showered by the time they got here."

"That's not very zen of you, A," Carlene replied with a smirk. "Want anything for breakfast? I can whip up some eggs and bacon. Well, no bacon for you so I'll make you double eggs, but bacon for me."

"That sounds good. I'm going to turn the news on and see if there are any updates on the whole terrorist attack thing." Alaska sat down on the couch and turned the TV on. It didn't escape her notice that she was sitting on the same couch James had slept on the night before. The thought that he was wanted by the government and was considered a dangerous man by the FBI made a chill run down her spine.

"We've been waiting all morning to get an official statement from Captain Rogers, but he has not left the hospital since he was admitted yesterday. Rumors have been spreading that he's healed from the wounds he received during battle, but no one has been able to confirm or deny these rumors," a female reporter said on the TV. Alaska visibly rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Why can't they just leave the poor guy alone? He was nearly killed yesterday. So was his poor girlfriend," she remarked. "Give him some privacy."

"I'm glad he's ok. Captain America's always been one of my favorite Avengers since the Battle of New York," Carlene added from her spot in the kitchen. Alaska could hear the oil starting to pop on the stovetop; she hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment, and she felt her mouth start to water.

"I think they're all cool," Alaska said. "It's just nice that there are people willing to be those kinds of heroes for us, you know? It really makes the human condition seem less depressing."

"Too early in the morning for that kind of talk, A," Carlene deadpanned. "Way too early."

Alaska smiled. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, by the way, could you make a conscious effort not to mention this whole intruder incident to my mom if she happens to call or something? I really don't want her knowing about it because then she'll start trying to pressure me to go home even more."

"Honestly, that's not a bad idea. I've thought about taking a few days off back home," Carlene said. Alaska glanced into the kitchen and saw Carlene pausing in her cooking efforts as she pulled her long strawberry blonde hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head to keep her hair out of her face.

"Really?" Alaska asked.

"Yeah. This kind of shit's scary. A terrorist attack literally happened right here. In D.C. We're just lucky we don't work anywhere near the Triskelion, or we could have gotten caught in the middle of it." Carlene went back to work, and Alaska looked back at the TV to figure out how bad the damage of the world around her was turning out to be.

* * *

James didn't consider himself to be a lucky person, but he managed to get a stroke of luck handed to him as he avoided the metal detectors at the Smithsonian. One thing that HYDRA had taught him was how to be, basically, invisible. As he walked through the doors of the museum and saw where the majority of the lines were going and where there weren't very many people at all, he mentally mapped out how to get around them. Off to the left, there were two metal detector and bag-check stations that weren't being used, and thankfully, the left area was where the majority of people were trying to get through the security checkpoint. Carefully, he made his way off to the left where the detectors weren't being used. With one last look over his shoulder, he walked through and started casually making his way through the museum.

It didn't take him long to find the Captain America exhibit. Hell, he could have found the damn thing just standing in line there were so many damn signs all over the place. Apparently, but not surprisingly, the exhibit was one of the most popular ones at the museum. After the fall of SHIELD yesterday, it didn't surprise James to see the large crowds of people who were there to learn more about the man who had had a part in taking down both HYDRA _and _SHIELD.

James self-consciously pulled the brim of his hat down farther, and he started walking. Security guards were all over the place, and he couldn't risk them noticing who he was. If he knew HYDRA, they'd be on him in a heartbeat. Truthfully, every government agency was probably out trying to find him just then, making staying in hiding even more difficult than he'd planned. He kept his pace slow and even so as not to separate himself from anyone else.

Sure enough, the start of the exhibit loomed in front of him. This was it. There was no turning back. In learning more about the man he'd once known, he'd also learn more about himself possibly. James knew that it was now or never—the longer he stayed in hiding, the more difficult it would be to actually stay hidden. Everyone would start turning up the heat on the search to find the Winter Soldier, and he'd be fucked. He had his chance now to figure out who he was, so he might as well take it.

And he did. He put one foot in front of the other, and he started walking through. The first thing that caught his attention was the large mural up on the wall. He slowed down, his eyes skimming over it. Yep. That looked exactly like the guy who'd beat him up. Unexpectedly, James started to feel anger rise up within him, and he knew it was just aftershocks of the mission. He'd failed the mission by refusing to kill Steve Rogers, and this sense of blinding anger he was starting to feel was just a repercussion of it.

Gritting his teeth together, James forced himself to keep walking, to release the anger he was beginning to feel. It wouldn't do any good to flip out here in the middle of the museum. Not when he was so close to some answers. Besides, if he did that, there was no question that there would be government officials after his ass. And that, in James's opinion, was not something he considered to be very fun.

He kept walking through the exhibit, looking around at all the stories about Steve Rogers and his transformation. The pictures of pre-Serum Steve looked more familiar than the pictures of post-Serum Steve, but James didn't dwell on it. Sometimes he got those weird little feelings whenever he saw a certain view or smelled a certain scent. He wasn't sure what exactly those meant, but he figured that now was just another one.

As he walked farther into the exhibit, he saw what he'd been looking for. In front of him was a row of old uniforms that had once belonged to Steve Rogers and the rest of his Howling Commandos. Steve Rogers's uniform was gone since Steve had apparently jacked it in order to take down HYDRA yesterday—why did James get the feeling that that was the exact kind of sentimental shit Steve would pull—and there was a sign explaining the absence of the uniform, but it wasn't Steve's uniform or his picture that James was focusing on.

He was focusing on his own picture. There above the uniforms were paintings of the Howling Commando that had worn the uniform below each face. And there was James's face right beside Steve's. James froze. He'd known it. Deep down, he'd known something along these lines, but it was difficult for him to stand there and face it. His throat tightened, and he found that he was having difficulty breathing. Out of habit, he ran a mental assessment of himself. His heart was pounding abnormally loud and fast, and his fists were starting to clench. Every muscle in his body was tight and full of tension, displaying distress.

He was distressed looking at this picture and this uniform. His blue eyes flicked down to the uniform, and he tried to remember wearing it. He couldn't. He couldn't remember a damn thing. All that he could possibly conjure up was Steve's face and some familiarity that he associated with him, but that was it. Panic started to fill James's chest, and he quickly turned away. Suddenly, it was too much for him to be there. There were too many people and too many security guards, and—goddammit, he was starting to get really pissed off just being there.

He began to move through the crowd when he saw his picture again. It was a glass panel that detailed a biography of Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes. That was him—at least, that was what Steve Rogers had told him. He didn't want to believe that Steve Rogers had been right, but he couldn't deny what he was seeing in front of him. He stopped and looked up at the glass panel and read it.

James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky, was Steve Rogers's best friend since birth. Steve Rogers had wound up saving his life when Bucky had been captured by HYDRA, and Bucky had helped make up the team known as the Howling Commandos. Bucky had died during the mission to bring in Dr. Arnim Zola. James stared up at the biography with wide eyes. The picture was undeniable—that was him. That was him but with short hair and a softness to his face that he couldn't remember ever having.

God, he couldn't remember any of this. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the picture. What the hell had happened to him? If that were _really _him—if he was really and truly James Buchanan Barnes, how the hell had he gone from that to _this_? How was that possible? James felt his throat tightening again. It didn't seem possible at all. He couldn't remember any of it.

As he stared at the picture of who he once was, he felt his jaw tighten. HYDRA might have changed him into someone else, but he would make them pay. He didn't know how, but by God, he was determined he would. He needed answers, and he wouldn't rest until he got them.

He knew where he was going to start first in finding them. It was a long shot, and he was risking a lot, but he had to start somewhere.

* * *

Alaska sat on the floor of her apartment and her laptop perched on the coffee table in front of her. She'd spent the day researching SHIELD, HYDRA, and everything that could possibly be linked to the two, and she'd learned a lot more in the past few hours than she ever would have thought she'd learn about the organizations.

"I wonder what they're going to do now," she remarked out loud. Carlene looked up at her from across the room as she sat in the arm chair on her own laptop.

"SHIELD?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of hard to tell if they're like, fully eliminated or if they're just kind of going through a tough spell," Alaska replied.

"Do you think you'd want to try to rebuild after finding out a bunch of Nazis were secretly running your organization?" Carlene asked with lifted eyebrows. "Besides, the director was killed. He's been running it for years, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, I think so," Alaska said as she continued to scroll. "It just seems like a shame. They've done a lot of good for the world."

"Was that them, or was that HYDRA manipulating them?" Carlene challenged. Alaska sighed in defeat.

"You're right," she said begrudgingly. "God, I wonder how many secrets they know about all of us. Do you think they monitor our phones?"

"Probably," Carlene said.

"You're so negative, Car. You need to meditate more."

"You love me and all my negative energy."

"You're right." Alaska rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "You're unfortunately right."

Suddenly, a knock at the door caught both of their attention. Alaska paused, and she looked over at Carlene. "Did you invite someone over?"

"No, I didn't." Carlene frowned. "If it's the travelling Mormons, don't answer."

Alaska grinned and got up to go to the door. As different as she and Carlene were, they balanced each other out well. Carlene was the realistic one who didn't take shit from anyone while Alaska made more of an effort to look through rose-colored glasses and practice patience. Carlene thought meditation was a waste of time, and Alaska swore by it. Carlene was ambitious to the point of having a one-track mind, and Alaska went where the wind took her. They were unusual pair of best friends and roommates, but Alaska couldn't have asked for anyone different.

Besides, Carlene had been there for Alaska during Alaska's hardest moment of her life, and that was something Alaska would never forget.

She put her hand on the doorknob and turned, opening it to find someone she never thought she'd see again standing outside. For a second, she didn't say anything, and neither did James. He looked nervous and embarrassed and also really tense, but he was there looking at her with his blue eyes and messy long hair.

"Oh, my God," she said.

"I'm sorry to come back," James said quietly and quickly, as if he were afraid she were going to slam the door in his face. "I'm sorry to take advantage of your hospitality, but—"

"Who is it?" Carlene asked. Alaska heard her set her laptop aside and stand up, crossing over towards them. She turned around as she tried to think of something to keep Carlene where she was, but she was too late. Carlene caught sight of James, and she stared at him with shocked, disturbed brown eyes. "Holy shit."

"I'm not here to hurt you," James said quickly. "I'm sorry. I can go."

"The government's looking for you," Carlene said. "Did you know that? They came and talked to us this morning, and they told us that you're not someone we want to get tangled up with. You have 10 seconds to get out of here, and then I'm calling the police."

"My name is James Barnes. I'm a soldier. I was involved with the SHIELD-HYDRA fight yesterday. I need help." James's sentences came out forced and stilted, as if he were having trouble speaking. "I don't have anywhere else to go. I'm not looking for a place to stay. Just…I need to do some research."

"The FBI said you've done bad things. Why are they looking for you?" Carlene demanded. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and started dialing.

"The same reason I'm here. They're looking for answers," James vaguely answered. Alaska frowned.

"Answers?" she asked.

"I can't…I know I who I am, but I _don't _know who I am," he said slowly.

"Why are you here?" She folded her arms protectively across her chest as she suspiciously eyed him.

"You helped me last night." His eyes stared down at her, and he remembered the look on her face from last night as she'd offered him the couch. She'd helped him once before, and he knew he was risking his chances by coming back a second time and asking for more help, but he was desperate.

"You're a soldier?" Carlene asked, her brown eyes narrowed as she stared hard at James. Cautiously, he nodded. "You don't look like one."

"I need a hair cut," he said by way of explanation. Carlene's eyes darted to his hair, and she lifted her eyebrows as if to say that she agreed, but she didn't say anything else.

"What do you need help with?" Alaska asked cautiously. His blue eyes went back to her, and he stared at her straight on.

"I need to use a laptop," he said.

"Why should we let you in?" Carlene asked, still looking as though she didn't want to help. "You're a criminal. Wanted by the government. That doesn't let me want to trust you."

Alaska suddenly frowned, and she squinted her eyes at the man. "James Barnes." She paused. "_James Barnes_. Oh, my God." Quickly, she backed away from the door a few steps, and she stared at him in disbelief. "How is that—how are you even possible?"

"You know me?" James asked. Alaska brought a hand up to her mouth, and she nodded. She'd seen his face all over the Internet earlier that day as she'd researched HYDRA and SHIELD and Captain America, and she hadn't even noticed it. She couldn't breathe.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I do. God, I mean, I don't _know _you know you, but I know who you are. Oh, my God. Holy shit."

"That's why I'm here," James replied, a look crossing over his face that Alaska couldn't identify. "For answers."

"Alaska, what the fuck's going on?" Carlene asked, her voice suddenly sounding scared. Alaska lowered her hand from her mouth and stared at James in something akin to awe.

"I wish I knew, Car," she answered. Quickly, and before Carlene could object, she opened the door wider for James to come in.

"Alaska!" Carlene snapped furiously.

"I've been researching SHIELD, HYDRA, and Captain America all day today," Alaska said. Whether she was talking to James or Carlene, it wasn't clear, but both of them listened. James looked surprised that she'd let him in, and he also looked uncomfortable and shocked and on edge at all the same time, while Carlene looked pissed off and wary of James. "Captain America's best friend died in battle. Bucky Barnes. James Barnes." Alaska gestured towards James. "Look at him. James Barnes. Soldier. Doesn't know who he is." She looked at him. "You're Bucky Barnes. How is this possible? You died. You're supposed to be dead."

James swallowed, and he stared honestly at Alaska. "Well, ma'am, that's what I thought, too."

Carlene stared disbelievingly at James, and then she summed up everyone's thoughts in two words.

"Oh, shit."


	4. Heart

**Shoutouts to fluttershypegasus1, Jo, sweetpea42, Methos1228, LilyHiddleston96, and ladyofasgard for reviewing!**

**I can't believe this story's managed to attract over 50 followers after just three chapters, but you do not hear me complaining at all! Thank you so much for all of this amazing support.**

**Alright, we have some more action taking place in this chapter, and some familiar faces return.**

**Enter: Maria Hill**

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**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 4

"How are you alive? You're supposed to be dead," Alaska said with a curious, awed look in his direction. James was quiet as he thought about how to answer. It seemed ridiculous to say that he didn't know, especially since that seemed to be his go-to answer these days, but he didn't _really _know. How _had _he survived? Just like Alaska had said, he was supposed to be dead, and here he was.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he said quietly.

"So you never answered why the government wants you," Carlene said with a purse of her lips. "Are you a good guy or a bad guy?"

"Carlene, remember how just yesterday the government was hunting down the all-American perfect Steve Rogers and his perfect girlfriend? As it's been revealed, Steve Rogers and Emma Carroll were completely innocent. Maybe this is another case of that," Alaska interjected before James could reply. Besides, he didn't even know how he was supposed to answer that, either. He had no idea if he were a good guy or a bad guy. HYDRA had been telling him all this time that he was good, but everyone else in the world seemed to look on HYDRA as bad. If he'd been bad all this time, that meant that everything he'd done, all the people he'd killed…he'd been making a bad mark in the world.

"Sorry. Excuse me if I'm not as trusting as you are," Carlene said drily. Suddenly, James's blue eyes widened as a memory passed through his head from yesterday.

"The girlfriend," he said abruptly. "I thought she was dead."

Alaska shook her head. "No. Not for lack of trying but last I heard, she was in the SHIELD hospital getting better. They didn't release much on what happened to her, but what they _did _say was that she'd been shot, and she's recovering right now."

"So she's _not _dead," James said slowly.

"Nope. It's a happy ending for them. Can you imagine how bad it would've been if she'd died, though? Jesus, the entire nation would have freaked," Alaska said, losing herself in her thoughts.

"A. What are we going to do?" Carlene asked patiently. Alaska snapped back into reality, and she looked squarely at James.

"Do you want to use my laptop?" she asked. Tentatively, he nodded, and she crossed towards the coffee table where she'd last had it, and she pointed to it. "There you go. There's no password on it, so you can just help yourself."

Tossing her a grateful look, he walked to the couch and sat down while Alaska distanced herself from him so that she could keep an eye on him. He looked awkward and uncomfortable sitting on the couch underneath her and Carlene's scrutiny, but she still didn't trust him enough to look away from him. Why had he shown up here? He hadn't exactly left the world's best impression last night by breaking into their apartment, but here he was, sitting on her couch again as he used her laptop to do God knew what.

He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, gloves included, and she wondered if he'd found somewhere to shower or wash his hair. His long brown hair was mainly hidden beneath the baseball cap he still had crammed on top of his head, but it didn't look like he'd taken it off recently. Quietly, she looked up and over at Carlene, and they both exchanged a wary look.

And then everything went to hell.

The door burst open with a bang, and suddenly, a dark-haired woman with blue eyes dressed in tactical gear came barging through with a gun in her hand. Alaska jumped and immediately backed up, her brown eyes large with fear as she stared at the new stranger. James, however, calmly looked up at her with an odd look on his face. He didn't appear to be afraid at all.

"What the fuck!" Carlene shrieked as she backed into the armchair she'd been in earlier. The woman didn't look at either of them; instead, she stared straight at James with a fierce, determined look on her face. She kept her gun raised up to him as she crossed farther towards him, and then she stopped.

"James Buchanan Barnes, you are being taken into custody of SHIELD," she said authoritatively. "We will not hurt you. That's a promise."

"You're with SHIELD?" Alaska managed to gasp out. Without looking at her, the woman nodded, and she pulled out a badge, opening it so that Alaska could see her ID.

"Commander Maria Hill," she said in that same authoritative voice. "SHIELD's been keeping a watch on this apartment since the FBI were here this morning. We've been looking for you, Sgt. Barnes. Come with us, and we won't give you over to the FBI. We have a lot of questions for you."

James visibly flinched at the use of his name, but he didn't look away from her. "You know who I am?"

"Yes, we do. We need you to come with us," Commander Hill said, her tone conveying that she wasn't taking no for an answer. Alaska watched with large eyes as James stared up at the woman with that same calm, fearless look on his face, and she wondered how he could do it. The woman was pointing a fucking gun at him, and he was just staring at her as if she were holding out a bouquet of flowers towards him. "Sgt. Barnes, I have a tactical team ready to clear these ladies out and immobilize you if you don't come with us willingly."

James was quiet for a few more seconds, and Alaska held her breath. What was he going to do? One half of her expected him to pull out a gun and shoot the SHIELD commander in front of him, but the other half didn't think he would do anything violent at all. Finally, he closed the lid of the laptop and set it aside.

"I'll go with you," he said. Commander Hill stared cautiously at him over her gun.

"There are men who will tranq you quicker than you can move that arm of yours if you try anything," she warned. Alaska watched horrified as James nodded and stood up. Commander Hill positioned herself so that she could look at both Alaska and James out of the corner of her eye. "We have to take the two of you in, too."

"What?" Carlene asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Questioning," Commander Hill said shortly. "We just want to know a few things about you two, and then you can go on your way. I'll drive you."

Alaska stared at the dark-haired woman and realized that she had no choice. If she said no, she had a feeling that it would take less than a tranquilizer to get her to cooperate, and she didn't want to test that theory. Her eyes still huge, she looked over at Carlene. "Alright. We'll go."

* * *

As Alaska sat in the basement of some old police station that SHIELD had managed to secretly take over since the fall of the Triskelion, she started to panic. This wasn't her life. God, she owned a store in Washington D.C., and she believed in the power of healing crystals and aromatherapy. _That _was her life. Not getting mixed up with this bullshit spy thing. Panic filled the back of her throat, and she tried to keep it down, staring up at the agent in front of her.

"State your full name and birthday," the agent—Agent Fulton, if Alaska remembered correctly—said.

"Alaska Sage Clark. March 3, 1986," she replied.

"Occupation?"

"I own a store."

"What kind of store?"

"A bookstore."

Agent Fulton pursed his lips at Alaska. He was young—didn't seem to be much older than her with reddish brown hair and dark grey eyes. "Alaska Sage Clark. That's an unusual name."

Despite the tension of the moment, Alaska smirked. "If I had a penny for every time I heard that, I'd be living on the nice side of D.C." When Agent Fulton made no move to smile or laugh, Alaska let out a nervous breath. "My parents are tree huggers. Free spirits. Alaska Sage was the coolest name to them."

"I see," Agent Fulton said thoughtfully. He sat down at the table across from Alaska with even, uninterested eyes. "How do you know James Buchanan Barnes?"

"He was in my apartment last night trying to find food," Alaska answered.

"And you let him in again today? Willingly?" Agent Fulton asked. Alaska nodded.

"Yes. He needed help," she said.

"With what?"

"Getting answers."

"Answers to what?"

"I don't know." Alaska felt frustration and anxiety mount up within her chest. "He didn't say. He doesn't really know who he is right now, but he at least knows he's Bucky Barnes, former Howling Commando. Why do you guys want him so badly?"

"Did you know he's assassinated over two dozen people?" Agent Fulton asked. Alaska physically reacted by jerking her head back in surprise.

"What?" she asked in disbelief.

"He was killing people for HYDRA, the enemy. You know all about that, right?" Agent Fulton kept staring at Alaska, trying to gauge her reaction. Anxiously, Alaska lifted her hand up and pushed it through her dark brown hair.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "That's why you guys are looking for him. You and the FBI."

"You're correct," Agent Fulton curtly replied. Alaska ran her hands over her face as her mind started to run at 30 miles per hour. It didn't make sense. Everything she'd researched on Bucky Barnes had said that he was gentle, much like Steve Rogers himself. For God's sake, they were best friends. How could the best friend of Steve Rogers have been working for HYDRA as HYDRA's personal assassin? She tried to calm herself down but found that she was having trouble.

"Oh, my God," she repeated, still trying to get herself back under control. She didn't want to freak out right here in front of this SHIELD agent who looked like nothing ever bothered him, but unfortunately, that seemed to be what Alaska was doing. Inwardly, she told herself to focus on her breathing, to pretend that she was meditating. Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled and felt her pulse slow down only the tiniest bit. "But—but that doesn't seem right. He's nice. Like, he's really, _really _nice."

"He was brainwashed by HYDRA. Did whatever they told him to. Now that HYDRA's fallen, and he's escaped, that's where we step in," Agent Fulton said steadily without changing his expression. Alaska's eyes widened with horror.

"What are you going to do to him?" she asked. "Are you—are you going to kill him?"

For the first time, a hint of a smile passed over the agent's face. "No. Of course not. We're going to rehabilitate him. Get his memory back."

A sense of relief washed over Alaska, and she felt herself start to relax into her chair. Out of nervous habit, she ran her hand through her hair again. "Thank God. I'm just glad I still have enough of my hearing left, so I was able to hear the sounds from the dining room."

Agent Fulton gave her an odd look. "Miss Clark?"

Alaska looked back at him and waved a dismissive hand. "My hearing. I'm slowly losing it. Very gradually, but it _is _happening."

"There was no indication of that in your file," Agent Fulton replied. Alaska gave the man an odd look, and then she sighed.

"Of course you'd already have files on me," she murmured to herself. "Well, if you look at all my hearing tests over the past five years, you'll see a slow but steady decline. Hasn't gotten bad enough yet to where I need hearing aids, but…" She shrugged. Looking up at Agent Fulton, she felt a sense of dread coming over her as she thought about James again. "Has James Barnes really killed over two dozen people?"

"Unfortunately," Fulton replied grimly, and he leaned forward against the table, resting his elbows on the edge. "We would like to help him be the man that he once was. He's a close friend of Steve Rogers, and Captain Rogers is greatly needed by SHIELD at this time. If we did anything harmful to James Barnes, Captain Rogers would be completely uncooperative in the future."

"Does Captain Rogers know that you have him here yet?" Alaska asked. Fulton shook his head.

"No. And we intend to keep it that way for now," she answered. "Alright. Is there anything else you can think of that you'd like to share?"

"About…the incident?" Alaska asked, confused. Agent Fulton nodded. Alaska thought back to anything that could be important. Slowly, she folded her arms over her chest. "I don't think he's dangerous. He didn't do anything to Carlene or me. I never once got a bad feeling from him."

"Because he wasn't under orders," Fulton answered. "From the reports that we've read, Barnes is actually fairly…normal when he's not under orders."

Alaska paused. "Why are you telling me all this? Isn't this…like, top secret or something?"

Again, Fulton's mouth twitched into another smile. "It seems that our friendly neighborhood spider leaked all of the intel online, so we don't really any secrets anymore." He saw Alaska's blank face. "Black Widow. Agent Natasha Romanoff leaked everything online to expose HYDRA. There are no more secrets."

"Oh. Ok," Alaska said. Uncomfortably, she looked towards the door. "Am I good to go?"

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Agent Fulton asked. Alaska was surprised to see the change in the agent in the few minutes that she'd been under his scrutiny, noticing how much nicer Agent Fulton seemed to be now for whatever reason. She gently bit the inside of her lip and shook her head.

"He has a broken arm. Make sure someone takes care of it. Other than that…I don't think so," she said.

"Alright. You're free to leave whenever. When your roommate is done with her questioning, we'll have someone drive you back to your apartment," Agent Fulton said.

"Will I get a chance to see James Barnes before I leave?" Alaska asked hopefully. "I'd like to…I don't know. Wrap this whole thing up, I guess."

"You want a chance to see SHIELD's most wanted man after you know who he is and what he's done?" Agent Fulton asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. Despite the shock on the agent's face, Alaska nodded.

"He's not that person. You said it yourself," she said. "I'd like to wish him well on his rehabilitation."

"I'll see if I can give you that kind of clearance," Agent Fulton said, and Alaska smiled at him, the first genuine smile on her face that she'd worn in a long time.

"Thank you, Agent Fulton," she said. "I would appreciate that a lot." She stood up and started walking to the door before the young man could call her back and tell her he had some more questions for her. Suddenly, she paused at the edge of the room, her hand on the doorknob, and she turned around to face him one last time. "Actually, one last thing. I know I'm not an agent or anything, but if you're trying to get him back to how he was…the first thing I'd suggest would be to get him a haircut. Like the one he had before."

Agent Fulton paused as he absorbed what Alaska was saying. Then he slowly nodded. "Ok. I'll pass that on."

"I'll see you around, Agent," Alaska said, and she hurried out of the room before she got stuck in there permanently. Once outside, she closed the door behind her and exhaled quietly into the silent hall around her. She didn't know where she was or where she was even supposed to be going, but there was a bench nearby that she could sit on, so there was that at least. She thought about pulling her phone out to shoot a text to Carlene, but she figured it wouldn't do any good. If Carlene was still being questioned, she wouldn't be able to check her phone, so the best that Alaska could do was sit there and wait.

She didn't know why she wanted to see James Barnes one last time. Well, if she really thought about it, she could kind of figure out why. He'd come to her for help, and she hadn't exactly helped him. His return to her apartment had ended up in him getting held at gunpoint and threatened with tranquilizers if he didn't cooperate. As a result, she felt kind of responsible, but she knew she shouldn't feel bad since it seemed that this was where he needed to be. SHIELD seemed genuine in their attempts to help him and get him back to who he was, and that was what he'd been trying to figure out, anyway.

Leaning back against the wall, she thought of James Buchanan Barnes and the truth she'd learned about just moments ago.

* * *

"Do you know where you are?" Commander Hill looked down at James with blue eyes that were neither kind nor cruel. James looked back up at her with what he hoped was a calm expression.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Washington D.C."

"Do you know _who _you are?" Hill asked.

"No," James said slowly. Unexpectedly, he found himself feeling the slow burn in his stomach that he always felt right before he was about to get angry. Commander Hill didn't show any signs of noticing the sudden change in his emotions.

"Do you recognize that your name is James Buchanan Barnes?" she asked.

"Yes," James said tightly.

"Do you remember anything about your time during the war with Captain Rogers?" Hill asked, staring hard at him. James tried to steady out his breathing, to keep himself calm. He remembered one of his past handlers telling him to breathe whenever he thought he was going to fly off the handle, and he tried to employ the technique now.

"No." His voice remained tight and terse.

"Do you remember Captain Steve Rogers at all?" Hill asked. She walked towards him and folded her arms over her chest.

"I don't know him," James snapped sharply. Hill lifted her eyebrows coolly at him.

"Sgt. Barnes, need I remind you that if you lose your cool in here, there will be multiple men ready to take you down if need be," she said drily. James glowered at her, and he loosened the fist that he'd unknowingly made. "We're not going to hurt you. I promised you that we wouldn't, and I intend to keep that promise. I'm a woman of my word."

"Why should I believe you?" James asked, still trying to get control over his breathing.

"Because it's either us or the FBI. The FBI wants to lock you up forever based on your terrorist attack yesterday, but we got to you first. We don't want to hurt you at all. We want to help you," Hill said, each word slow and precise.

"Why?" James angrily demanded. Again, Hill didn't flinch. She just kept looking at him calmly, as if he were no different than any other agent she was talking with.

"You were brainwashed. When you killed people, you were under orders. That was the Winter Soldier working. Not you. Brainwashing is a nasty procedure with lots of nasty side effects and lifelong traumas. But we'll get you through it," she said. James stared at her darkly, and he didn't say anything. He didn't know why he was feeling so angry, but he was furious. It was all he could do not to get up and fling the chair he was sitting on at the wall. He hadn't even felt angry until she'd mentioned Steve Rogers, if he remembered Steve Rogers.

"Is that why I don't remember who I am?" James asked, his voice still tight, though it was starting to relax the slightest bit. Commander Hill nodded smoothly.

"Yes," she said. "HYDRA tried to erase your identity, and every time you fought back, they'd wipe you time and time again. We're going to try to undo all of that. It'll be a long process, and it won't be easy by any means, but I have a feeling that you're used to things not being easy."

James wanted to smile, but he didn't. Instead, he just stared silently and blankly at Commander Hill. He wanted to believe her, to believe that SHIELD was out to help him. But how many times had he heard that someone was going to help him, only to find out that there was pain involved? The pain of receiving his new arm…he didn't even like to think about that. Of all the memories that he could have remembered, he remembered that one, and he hated it—it was the one he wished he could forget.

"What's your association with Alaska Clark and Carlene Bennet?" Commander Hill suddenly asked. James blinked in surprise at the change of subject, but he felt his shoulders relax instantly, all the anger draining away from him.

"None," he said.

"Why were you at their apartment today? You broke in there last night, and you returned today. Why?" Hill pressed. "Do you know either one of those women?"

"No, ma'am," James replied, suddenly feeling as though he were being chastised. "I don't know them. They helped me last night, and I was wondering if they'd help me again."

"With what?" Commander Hill asked. He was quiet for a few seconds, not saying anything. He looked down at the top of the metal table in front of him. If he wanted to, he could have picked it up with one arm and flung it across the room.

"Finding answers. What happened to me," he finally said. Silently, Commander Hill nodded, and she crossed towards him, unfolding her arms and sinking down into the chair across from him. Her blue eyes were steady and clear, and she looked at him as though she were looking at an equal adult.

"Lucky for you, we can help you with that here," she said patiently. "Why did you go back to Miss Clark and Miss Bennet's apartment?"

"They were nice," James said with a sigh. "They helped me."

"Miss Bennet didn't seem to want you around very much," Commander Hill countered. Her words weren't harsh—they were just simple. Matter of fact. He shook his head slightly, feeling his long hair brush over his shoulders and suddenly realizing that he hated long hair.

"Alaska. She introduced herself as Alaska. She wanted to help me," he said. Hill nodded as she listened to him, and then she leaned back in her chair to study him.

"So you went back to them because Alaska helped you," she spoke out loud. James nodded.

"She was nice, and I scared her, and I felt bad," he said quietly. Commander Hill listened, and then she stood up.

"Thank you for talking with me, Sgt. Barnes. I'm going to go check in on the other interrogations. I'll be back," she said. She started to walk off, but then she paused and looked over her shoulder. "The room's—"

"—monitored. If I try anything, I'll be tranquilized," James finished. Suddenly, Commander Hill smiled, and she nodded.

"So you've been listening," she said. "I'll be back shortly."

And with that, she was gone, and James was left to himself. He didn't know how he felt about this whole situation, of being here with SHIELD, an organization that his handlers had always told him was the enemy. He was here with the enemy. But as he'd looked at Commander Hill and looked into her eyes, he hadn't seen any trace of dishonesty there. He was unsure about everything these days, and this was another thing he was unsure of.

Honestly, the only thing he really knew for a fact was that the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Alaska Clark had made him last night had been the best sandwich he could ever remember eating. That was a fact.

* * *

"No, this isn't a good idea," Hill snapped impatiently. "What does she even want to see him for?"

"She asked to. She said she wanted to wish him well on his recovery," Agent Patrick Fulton replied in a quiet, professional tone. He surveyed the annoyed commander in front of him and wished that it'd been any other agent's job to ask if Alaska Clark could have clearance to go see James Barnes.

"Why?" Hill asked in that same irritated tone.

"I don't know, ma'am," Fulton replied. "All she did was ask to see him before she left." He listened to Hill sigh, and then he took a risk. "Commander Hill, I actually don't think it's that bad of an idea."

Maria turned her blue eyes onto Fulton, and she gave him a mildly amused look. "Really? Why do you think it's not that bad of an idea, Agent Fulton?"

He wasn't sure if she were mocking him or not, but he resisted the urge to nervously clear his throat, and he spoke. "Barnes clearly thought she was a kindred spirit. He saw something in her that made him calm and responsive. Maybe it'd be good for him to have that last personal connection before he goes into rehabilitation."

"He doesn't even know the girl," Maria replied, but Fulton could tell from the way that she tilted her head that she was considering it.

"She seems to be the only consistent thing in his life right now, ma'am. Think about it. He's only been away from the intelligence community for maybe 48 hours at the most. The one variable that those 48 hours share in common is Alaska Clark and her apartment. He went there twice. It's the one connection he has to anything right now. So I think it'd be good for him to get some kind of closure from the whole thing," Agent Fulton said without showing how nervous he was about speaking to the commander. Hill regarded him calmly with her sharp blue eyes, a look of interest replacing the irritation that had just been there.

"You're not completely useless, Agent Fulton," she finally said. "I'll grant Alaska Clark the access to see him. Make sure everyone on standby with the tranqs is on full alert."

"Yes, ma'am," Fulton replied with a nod.

"I'll go find her and tell her. Is her roommate done with questioning?" Hill asked. Fulton nodded again.

"Yes, ma'am. They've both been sitting out in the hall waiting for an answer on if Miss Clark can go see Barnes before they leave," he said. A look of amusement passed over his face. "Miss Bennet doesn't seem to have a desire to see him."

Maria smiled. "Why doesn't that surprise me at all? Well, she at least thinks with her brain. Alaska Clark thinks from her heart, and that can be a difficult, dangerous thing to do these days."

"Of course, ma'am. Oh, and Miss Clark suggested that if we're trying to get Barnes back to being himself again, he should get a haircut first," he said. Maria's smile widened.

"Like I said, Agent. She thinks from her heart."


	5. Kid

**Shoutouts to fluttershypegasus1, Ladyofasgard, Eva7673, angel897, Jo, eriindelle, LilyHiddleston96, zikashigaku, and TheLadyOfSouls for reviewing!**

**This story's almost at 70 followers?!**

**I know it's been a few days since I last updated! I've been in the middle of writing my Black Widow/Hawkeye origin story, and I've had a lot of inspiration to get extra chapters whipped out for that one, so I've been working on that and just got around to updating this.**

**This is a bit of a filler chapter, and there's some more background on Alaska and where she comes from, but don't worry-there will be more James and Alaska interaction in the next chapter. Things are taking an interesting turn =) I know this chapter's a bit shorter than what I usually write, but I'm planning on the one to be a little bit longer.**

**As always, keep leaving your opinions. Reviews are especially helpful in the beginning stages of a story, so I can figure out what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong! They also keep me motivated to update quickly =)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 5

James looked up when the door opened, but he was surprised to see Alaska Clark standing there instead of Commander Hill. She looked nervous but relieved all at the same time, and when she saw him, she smiled. James couldn't help thinking that she was the strangest person he'd ever encountered. Just last night she'd been terrified of him and had threatened to hit him with a skillet, and now here she was with a smile on her face as she willingly walked towards him.

"Hi. I asked if I could see you before I left," she said. He didn't say anything. Carefully, she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "I'm glad they didn't hurt you. I was worried they would. Now that you're here, it's good that they're going to help you."

"You believe them?" he asked calmly, trying not to give away his own doubt. Alaska gave him a steady look, and she nodded confidently.

"Yes," she replied. "I do."

"Why?" he asked. He watched the wheels turn in her head as she tried to figure out an answer. Inhaling deeply, she took a deep breath and smoothed her hand over her dark hair.

"Well…I don't know. You've got to believe someone. They could've shot you and killed you on the spot. But they didn't," she said. "That's got to mean something, right?"

"This could be a torture chamber," James said. He saw Alaska shift uncomfortably in her chair, not knowing how to respond.

"I don't—I have no idea if this is a torture chamber or not," she said. "I just think people are a lot nicer than we tend to give them credit for. Like you. I think you're a lot nicer than _you _think you are."

James looked as though he'd been slapped across the face, but the expression was gone as quickly as it'd been there. His face changed into a look between a grimace and a smirk. "Kid, you look too much on the sunny side."

He didn't know where those words had come from or why—he couldn't ever remember having called anyone "kid" before—but they seemed to feel natural flowing out of his mouth. Across from him, Alaska frowned, and she squinted her eyes slightly at him.

"First off, I'm 26. I'm not a kid," she said. "And there are so many negative people in the world that I'm trying not to add to it."

"You can't hide from reality," James murmured.

"I'm not," Alaska protested. She sounded almost offended. "I know the reality of the world around me. I know that there are children starving to death all over the planet. People being brutally murdered. Organizations being infiltrated by Nazis. I know it, and I get it just as much as the next person. But I have hope."

James stared at her without taking his eyes away from her. "Why?"

"Because I can't not have it," she said simply. "Carlene tells me it's stupid, and she says it's another one of my tree hugger things, but it's true. If you keep having positivity energy around you, positive things will start to happen."

"You make it sound easy," James said, biting off the desire to call her "kid" at the end.

"It's not," Alaska admitted with a shrug. "But that's why I think SHIELD genuinely wants to help you. The FBI on the other hand…I'm not so convinced. There was something sketchy about them."

"Sketchy," James repeated, not quite understanding the phrase.

"There was something not right with them," Alaska rephrased. He nodded to show that he understood. Silence passed between them as neither knew what to say. He wasn't sure if he felt awkward in the silence, but she seemed to be relatively comfortable as she sat in her chair with her eyes casually looking around the room. She was small with brown hair and brown eyes, but she didn't look like she was the average girl. James felt that if he saw her out in public, he would have taken a second look at her. And a third.

"I should probably go," she said finally. She brought her dark brown eyes back to his face. "My roommate's out in the hall, and I think she's ready to go home. This has been…a different kind of day for us."

James nodded, but he didn't say anything else. He watched her push her chair back and stand up to get ready to leave. He didn't know why, but he liked having her in the same room with him. She was different and weird, without a doubt the strangest person he'd ever met, but he liked it because she was that way.

"Good luck on your rehab. I hope you get your memory back. I told them that if they wanted to help, they should probably start by getting you a haircut. If that's what you want," Alaska said. James was acutely aware of how long his hair was. Frowning, he nodded.

"I don't like my hair being long," he said seriously. At his quiet sentence, Alaska's face spread into a wide smile, and she let out a quiet laugh.

"I thought you might not," she said. "So I gave them the suggestion. I don't know if they'll do it, but…"

Her voice trailed off as she looked at him. He was staring at her with those blue eyes of his again, his face unreadable. If he hadn't responded verbally to what she'd said at the table, she wouldn't have thought he'd been listening at all. She'd never met anyone who stared quite the way he did; in the back of her mind, she remembered Agent Fulton telling her that this man had killed over two dozen people. James Barnes wasn't a killer, she silently told herself. James Barnes wasn't a killer because the Winter Soldier was the real killer.

"Good luck," she said. He blinked and then nodded.

"Thank you," he replied. She wished she could think of something else to say, but she couldn't. So she turned over her shoulder and quietly walked out of the room and back into the holding room where the other agents had been waiting to burst in at any sign of violence. Carlene was in there, too, looking less bored and annoyed than Alaska had expected.

Commander Hill's eyes traveled to Alaska's face, and she frowned at the young woman as Alaska shut the door behind her. "He was more responsive to you than he was to me."

"What?" Alaska asked, frowning.

"When I was talking to him, all I really got was anger. You got something different," Commander Hill replied. "He acts differently around you."

"I think it's because she's the only thing that's been consistent during his time of freedom," Agent Fulton spoke up. Alaska's eyes flicked over to him, and she saw him sitting on a table back behind the other agents. When he saw that he had everyone's attention, he kept talking. "I was discussing this with Commander Hill earlier. He's been out in the real world for about two days now, and you're the only common factor for those two days. He has a connection with you."

"What do you suggest we do, Agent Fulton?" Maria Hill asked. Agent Fulton lifted his eyebrows, and he gave a small shrug.

"I don't know, ma'am," he said. "I follow your orders."

Maria folded her arms over her chest as she thought. Her eyes turned back to Alaska, and she took in the sight of the nervous young woman in front of her, who was currently looking over at Carlene with a confused look in her eyes. "The Winter Soldier can be very violent. Particularly when under orders. Just now when I was speaking with him, I could see him struggling with that violent part of himself. I didn't see that at all when he was dealing with you, Miss Clark."

"I think I confuse him more than anything," Alaska said honestly.

"Maybe," Maria agreed. "But either way, it was interesting to see. Would you be interested in coming back again later this week?"

Alaska stared at the commander in disbelief. "Come back? I'm allowed to do that?"

"Normally, we wouldn't, but these are…interesting circumstances. James Barnes responded remarkably well to you in there. We'd like to see if that continues," Commander Hill replied. "I think Agent Fulton's onto something by saying that Barnes has formed a connection with you."

"What would you want me to do?" Alaska asked carefully as a frown started to settle over her features.

"Well," Maria said professionally. "He talks to you. So all you'd do is talk. Get to know him. Calm him down. He might tell you if he remembers anything. He might not. We've never really done anything like this before, so we're winging it just as much as you are."

"Oh. Ok," Alaska vaguely replied. Maria saw the look of apprehension wash over her face.

"There would always be people nearby waiting to help you if Barnes were to get violent," she said. "You wouldn't have to worry about your safety."

"Ok," Alaska said slowly. She thought it over in her mind. She wasn't entirely sure what she thought of the whole situation; on one hand, she was eager to see James Barnes recover, to see him as Bucky Barnes, Howling Commando. But on the other hand, she'd never done anything like this before, and it all seemed a lot to her. "Well…I'll do it. But only if you get him a haircut first."

A smile twitched over Commander Hill's face. "I think we can arrange that."

"I mean, like, now. He really needs a haircut," Alaska said firmly. Commander Hill nodded.

"Noted. As soon as we get this taken care of, we will bring someone in to cut his hair," she said. Alaska's eyes skimmed over Maria Hill's face, and she wondered what the hell she'd just agreed to do.

* * *

Her brother picked up on the first ring. "For fuck's sake, I've been waiting all day yesterday and all day today to get this phone call from you."

Alaska blinked in surprise over the aggressive tone in her brother's voice. "Hello to you, too."

"You called Mom and Dad yesterday, but you couldn't take the time to call me? Jesus, Al. Do you know how fucking worried I've been about you? Cady, too?" Shane demanded. Guiltily, Alaska closed her eyes as she thought about her brother and his fiancée waiting for her to call.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was going to call you right after I got home from work yesterday, but a little something came up, and I really haven't had a chance until now. I'm sorry. I'm totally fine. Did Mom and Dad tell you I'm ok?" she asked, trying to get off the part where she'd said that something had come up. She definitely didn't want to talk about the whole James Barnes incident with her family. Not just yet.

"Yeah, they said you were fine, and you were going to call me, but you didn't. What happened?" Shane asked. Mentally, Alaska sighed. So much for her diversion techniques, she thought to herself.

"Nothing big, but I had to help someone, and I've been helping him all day today, too, so I'm serious. This was the first opportunity I've had to call you since then," she said. She heard her brother let out a sigh of relief on the other end.

"Well…I'm glad you're ok. Even if you're a pain in the ass," he said, meriting a smile from Alaska on her side. "Is Carlene ok, too?"

"Yeah, she's fine. We're both perfectly ok. The battle wasn't anywhere near where we work, so it was fine. I saw the helicarriers in the sky when they were exploding, and I saw that one crash into that one building, but that's about as much excitement as I got to see," she said.

"Damn. You didn't get to see Captain America?" Shane asked.

"No, not today. I always get to see him whenever he's not being a badass." She paused and thought about what she'd just said. "Actually, that's kind of a lie because even when he's doing his morning run, he's a total badass."

Admittedly, she and Carlene had gotten up in the early hours of the morning to act like they were exercising in the park downtown when really, they were just there to get a glimpse of Captain Steve Rogers on his morning run. Even though Alaska didn't consider herself to be an early morning kind of person, she had to say that she didn't regret getting up those extra few hours. Watching Steve Rogers run was like watching poetry and art in motion.

"He's Captain fucking America. Of course he's going to be a badass," Shane replied. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, I'm glad you didn't see him if it meant that you're alive. Look—I've been so worried about you that I'm saying nice things to you. You're still an asshole, Al."

"God, don't call me Al. I hate that nickname," Alaska groaned.

"I know you do. But you deserve it for not calling me until now," Shane retorted. She knew she deserved it, so she didn't push the issue. She also didn't want Shane to ask her who she'd been helping or what she'd been doing, so she dove in to change the subject before he could ask.

"What's been going on back home? Everyone ok?" she asked casually.

"Yeah. We were all glued to the TV and our phones yesterday trying to figure out where you were and if you were ok, but today's been pretty normal, so far. Hey, you usually don't call while you're at work. Are you at the store?" Shane asked. Alaska froze as she realized that technically, she was supposed to be at the store. Panic filled her as she tried to think of a reasonable excuse.

"No," she said slowly. "I decided to close it today. Didn't think many people were going to come in after the excitement yesterday."

"True. Did Carlene go into work?" Shane asked. Alaska glanced over at her roommate who was curled up in the armchair with her MacBook on her lap. No, Carlene hadn't gone into work either since they'd been so busy with the FBI and the aftermath of all of that, though really, Carlene's excuse for not going in was much better since the Museum of American History had actually been closed for the day.

"No," she said. "The museum was closed. The entire Smithsonian is closed today because of everything that happened."

"Makes sense. I can't imagine that very many places would be open at all," he replied. "D.C. looks like it got ripped apart."

"Yeah, it kind of did. So I think everyone needs a few days to try to get put back together again," Alaska agreed. "I'm going to let you go, though. Just because _I'm _not working doesn't mean _you _get to skip out of work."

"Al, what you do isn't even really working. You get to chill in a bookstore all day. That's _fun_," Shane said bitterly. Alaska laughed.

"You're right," she said. "But between the two of us, which one was the one who actually pursued the fun job? You or me?"

"You. But D.C.'s expensive as hell. You're lucky you have your loyal followers," Shane pointed out.

"You're right," Alaska conceded. "Or else I'd be up shit's creek. But seriously, I'm going to let you go. Give Cady my love."

"Will do. Next time a terrorist attack happens in D.C., I want to be the first person you call, ok? I don't want to find out my kid sister got hurt from anyone other than you," Shane said.

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. Bye, Shane."

"Bye, Al." He hung up before she could protest the nickname. Sighing, she pulled the phone away from her face and shut down the app to avoid running down the battery on her phone. She could feel Carlene looking at her from across the room.

"It's exhausting talking to family, isn't it?" Carlene asked. Alaska nodded and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"It's mainly just my brother that makes it exhausting," she said reluctantly. "I love him to death, and I tell him everything—even though I shouldn't—but God, he's just like…on a completely different wavelength than me and my parents."

"Yeah, he's never been one of those free spirit people the way the rest of you are," Carlene agreed. "Honestly, I think he does it on purpose."

"I'd agree with that," Alaska said. "He likes structure a lot more than we do."

"So I noticed you didn't tell him about that whole shit show that happened here last night," Carlene said vaguely. Alaska shot her a bored look. "What? I wasn't eavesdropping. Just pointing it out."

"Well, I knew if I told him, he'd freak out and go to my parents and pull one of those things that you do," she said. Carlene lifted her blonde eyebrows in amusement.

"Like I do?" she asked.

"Yeah, that whole thing where you get super aggressive because you're trying to watch out for me," Alaska replied with a smirk. A smile spread over Carlene's face, and she closed the lid of her MacBook.

"Well, that's an accurate description of me," she said. "But can you blame me? Look at your life for a second."

"Car—"

"_Just humor me_. Look at your life for a second, and really think about it. Last night, some stranger broke into our apartment for food. You let him stay on the couch overnight, and then he came back today for help. Turns out, he's Bucky Barnes, the long dead best friend of Steve Rogers, but he's been brainwashed by Nazis, so he's a hardcore assassin. SHIELD busts in and hauls us all away, only to reveal that they want to help him, and lo and behold, they pick you to help them help him. Does that not sound just…_ridiculous _and _dangerous _to you?" Carlene asked.

"Honestly, I think it sounds exciting—"

"Now you're just saying that to be a piece of shit," Carlene interrupted Alaska with a smile. "But I'm serious. You always jump into these things headfirst without thinking about them, and I just worry about you. You want to help everyone and everything, and A, that's one of the things I love about you because you're the kindest, most caring person I know. But it's that kindness that's going to turn around and bite you in the ass one day, and I don't want to feel like I didn't do everything I could to help you."

Alaska smiled softly at her roommate. "Thanks. But I'm fine. This whole situation is…ok, I admit that it's ridiculous, and it sounds dangerous, but I really do think James Barnes isn't a bad person. I think he needs help, and I want him to get that help."

"Trust me. I do, too," Carlene said genuinely. "I've always loved the story of Bucky Barnes. Remember when they made a Lifetime movie about him?"

Alaska smiled at the memory. "Yeah, I do."

"Yeah, it sucked ass, but I still loved it. I want him to get the help he needs and deserves, too, but I don't want you to get hurt in the process of it." Carlene stared at Alaska with a worried look on her face. Alaska thought about all the times Carlene had given her that exact look over the years, and she couldn't help but smile.

"I won't," she said reassuringly. "You heard Commander Hill. If he so much as tries anything with me, they'll tranq him or do whatever they need to do."

Carlene sighed in defeat, relaxing into her armchair. "I wish I could be as hopeful and optimistic as you always are. Even if you're a pain in the ass."

"And I wish I worked at the Museum of American History," Alaska countered, making Carlene smile. "We got lucky with not having to go in today."

"_I _got lucky—_you _own your store, so you can call off whenever you want," Carlene pointed out. "So when are you going to go visit Bucky Barnes again?"

"Um, on Monday, so in a few days," Alaska replied. "And I think he wants to be called James now. I don't know. I just remember him saying to call him James."

"Wonder why. He always went as Bucky back in the day when he was growing up." Carlene frowned thoughtfully. She sighed and studied Alaska's face. "What in the world have you gotten yourself into, A?"

Alaska sighed in return, and she stared at her worried friend. "That's the thing, Car. I wish I knew the answer."


	6. Therapy

**Shoutouts to Eva7673, angel897, eriindelle, LilyHiddleston96, and belladu57 for reviewing!**

**This chapter focuses on James a lot more as he starts his rehabilitation. We get to see him go through the emotions and effects of brainwashing as he tries to figure out who he is and why he doesn't remember everything. Next chapter, there will be more Alaska/James interaction as they start to figure out how exactly they relate to each other and why they respond so well to each other!**

**Alright, so I'm not getting very much feedback from y'all. It's really, really helpful to know what you guys think, so please, please, please leave your thoughts and opinions. They're super important.**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 6

"Good morning, James. My name is Dr. Sanchez, and I'm going to be working with you every day as your psychiatrist. How are you doing this morning?"

James stared blankly at the psychiatrist in front of him. Blinking, he tore his eyes away and looked around the office, squinting his blue eyes as he took everything in. SHIELD certainly didn't waste time in getting him started on the right path—as soon as Alaska Clark had left, they'd given him a much-needed haircut, some food, and then they'd set about to giving him a room. His lodgings weren't exactly a jail cell, but it'd been made clear to him that he couldn't come and go on his own if he pleased.

Now that it was the next day, his first stop after breakfast was therapy. Therapy was stupid, he thought with a rueful glance down at the velvety couch beneath his legs. He didn't need to go to therapy. He'd tried to argue this with Commander Hill, but from the look on her face and the bite in her voice, he'd known that he wouldn't get out of this one. So that was how he'd ended up there in that spot with this man looking pleasantly at him. He hated how pleasant Dr. Sanchez looked.

"How did you sleep last night, James?" Dr. Sanchez asked. James looked back at the psychiatrist, careful to keep his face blank and devoid of any emotion possible. He'd been trained to look like a robot, so that was exactly how he presented himself to his brand new doctor.

"You don't have to talk to me. This is about you. If you want to sit here in silence for an hour and a half every day, you can do that. This is _your _healing process. How you approach it is _your _choice," Dr. Sanchez said. James breathed calmly and evenly. "Do you want to remember who you are, James?"

"Yes," James said steadily.

"Alright. Some progress," Dr. Sanchez replied with a smile. James found himself feeling more annoyed than anything. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about?"

"When do I get to learn more about who I was?" James asked without waiting a beat.

"That comes in due time. It's a concern of ours that too much information might be too overwhelming—"

"And you don't think I can handle it?" James asked, scowling.

"Not right now," Dr. Sanchez answered honestly in that calm voice of his. James had to at least give it to the man for being honest with him. He'd been expecting another lie to come from the psychiatrist's mouth, but Dr. Sanchez had surprised him by admitting that no, he didn't think James could handle it.

"Why?" James demanded, unable to help the confused frown that was melting onto his face.

"Your mental and emotional states have been compromised. James, you were brainwashed, and you've been trained to be a machine. You've been trained to turn your emotions off—"

"My emotions aren't turned off," James interrupted in a terse tone. "They're on, and they're fine."

"Do you think it's natural for you to show anger like this?" Dr. Sanchez asked. James paused. He didn't know the answer to this question. As far back as he could remember, which, admittedly, wasn't very far at all, he couldn't remember a time that he hadn't felt some degree of anger. To him, anger was normal. An every day part of his life. HYDRA had trained him to work off of that anger because that was what got the job done. But as he thought back over the past 48 hours, he couldn't remember seeing anyone else expressing anger as outright as he appeared to.

He thought back to Alaska Clark. He'd broken into her damn apartment, and she hadn't even been angry about it. The woman she lived with had seemed angry, but she'd also been afraid, too. Alaska Clark didn't seem like the type of person who knew what angry was. He wondered if it were normal for her to feel anger, too, but as he remembered her, all he could remember were her bright, soft eyes and her forehead smooth from lack of worry lines.

"I don't know," he said finally. "I don't know what normal is."

"What's normal for _you_?" Dr. Sanchez asked.

"I don't know," James repeated in a frustrated tone. "How am I supposed to tell what's normal for me when I don't even know who I am?"

"What do you _think _is normal?" Dr. Sanchez rephrased. James took another moment to think about this one.

"Regular people," he said. "But I don't know what regular people do."

"Would you want to know?" Dr. Sanchez tilted his head curiously to the side. James pressed his lips together and pushed his back into the chair. Suddenly, all of this seemed ridiculous to him. He didn't want to sit here answering questions from some doctor who was probably just going to drug him up on all kinds of medication. He wanted answers about the life he'd had before HYDRA. He wanted to know more about Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers's best friend.

Admittedly, he felt better with his haircut. He felt a _lot _better. When he'd looked in the mirror that morning and seen his reflection, he'd actually physically paused. Seeing himself looking like that felt right. It felt indescribably good to not have all that long hair brushing against his shoulders—God, it'd felt awful. He didn't want to say that he felt like a new man now that he had short hair, but he felt different. He felt more familiar.

"I want to know more about who I was," James said, changing the subject. "I just want answers."

"Where do you want to start?" Dr. Sanchez asked. James finally looked at the psychiatrist with a new interest, and he studied the man's face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty there. He was pretty good at picking up when people weren't being truthful with him—he'd gotten it enough times from Alexander Pierce and every other handler he'd had before him. Once he realized that Dr. Sanchez wasn't trying to play games with him, he let out a sigh and thought about the question he'd just received.

Where did he want to start? He had no damn clue. He could start at the beginning of his life, he could start at the end of it…he could start with how he knew Captain America, for starters. He didn't know why, but sometimes he got a flash of what felt like a memory of a memory, muted and dull and nothing specific, and the sense that Steve Rogers had been a part of the muted memory always remained behind. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know, and he didn't need anyone to tell him that there would be a mountain of answers that would take years to climb.

"How I'm alive, I guess," James said.

"Do you remember anything about it?" Dr. Sanchez questioned. Without even taking a second to think about it, James shook his head.

"No," he said. "I can't remember anything. I'll get…flashes of almost remembering something, but then it goes away."

"Before you were a part of Captain Rogers's team called Howling Commandos, you were captured by HYDRA in Italy. A doctor there named Dr. Arnim Zola experimented on you, and those experimentations were what helped you survive the fall. You lost your arm, but you lived," Dr. Sanchez said. James's dark eyebrows knit together in a disturbed frown. So he'd been used as someone's lab rat before now. He could feel Dr. Sanchez carefully watching him react to the news, and he suddenly wished that he were anywhere else but there. "This is a difficult thing to face, James. You're in a very unique situation."

Despite the tightness in James's chest, he found it in him to smirk a little bit and shake his head. "Doc, I don't think unique is the right word to define what's happened to me."

Dr. Sanchez lifted his eyebrows in interest, and he leaned back farther into his armchair. "Think about what you just said."

James stared at Dr. Sanchez for a few seconds, wondering why the hell he'd agreed to this even though he _knew _why he'd agreed to it, and he ran his words back through his head.

_Doc, I don't think unique is the right word to define what's happened to me._

_Doc, I don't think unique is the right word to define what's happened to me._

_Doc, I don't think unique is the right word to define what's happened to me_.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked suspiciously when he couldn't find anything wrong or remotely interesting about what he'd just said. Dr. Sanchez leaned his elbow against the side of the armchair and propped his head up against his hand as he continued to calmly regard the soldier in front of him.

"Was that HYDRA's Winter Soldier speaking, or was that Sgt. James Barnes?" he asked. And then James noticed it. He'd called Dr. Sanchez "Doc" instead of his full name. That wasn't something he'd do. Was it? He tried to remember if he'd ever used that form of slang to refer to any of his doctors in the past. Actually, he remembered doing it once, and his handler had slapped him hard across the face. He hadn't done it since.

"I guess it wasn't HYDRA," he said stiffly, unsure of how to feel about all of this. And then Dr. Sanchez smiled.

"Then it looks like you're making far more progress than you even knew," he said pleasantly. "That's good, James."

"It doesn't feel good," James said, his frown deepening.

"Why?" Dr. Sanchez's pleasant face became intensely curious. James took a deep breath, and he let out a tired sigh.

"What even _is _progress?" he asked. "Progress is me saying a word I didn't really think about? Then yesterday was progress when I called Miss Clark 'kid' and 'ma'am.'"

"Miss Clark," Dr. Sanchez repeated. "Why did you call Miss Clark 'kid?'"

James gave Dr. Sanchez an annoyed look, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't know. It slipped out."

"Commander Hill said that you've been more responsive when interacting with Miss Alaska Clark than with anyone else," Dr. Sanchez pointed out. James frowned even more. If he kept frowning, his face would sink so low it would fall down to the floor beneath his feet. He hadn't thought about how he responded to Alaska Clark. She was without a doubt the strangest woman he'd ever met—scratch that. She was the strangest _person _he'd ever met, and he'd spent 70 years surrounded by nutty HYDRA agents.

"I don't know," James said. He knew that that wasn't really an answer to Dr. Sanchez's statement, but he didn't know how else to respond.

"Why do you think you're more responsive to Alaska Clark?" Dr. Sanchez asked. Suddenly, James felt very uncomfortable, and he wanted to go back to his little cell/room away from all these questions.

"I don't know," he repeated. "She was nice."

"Does she remind you of anyone?" Dr. Sanchez questioned. James's gaze instantly turned sharp, and he stared at the psychiatrist with dark, heated, accusing eyes.

"No," he snapped. "I don't remember anything." He paused for a few seconds, and he allowed his breathing to quell the anger that had started to rise up in his solar plexus. "She's strange."

Amusement passed over Dr. Sanchez's face, and he unexpectedly smiled. "Explain that for me."

"Well, she hit me over the head with a skillet," James offered. "And then she tied me up while I was unconscious, and then she offered me a place to stay for the night. That's not exactly normal."

"Normal. That's interesting that you'd use that word," Dr. Sanchez said. James blinked in surprise. He hadn't noticed his slip up at all, and he realized that Dr. Sanchez had caught onto it straight away.

"I guess so," he slowly replied. "I guess if I had to define normal, it'd be not Miss Clark."

"And yet you've been more verbal with her than you've been with anyone else here," Dr. Sanchez said. "It's definitely an observation worth noting."

"Yeah," James replied with a slight frown on his face. "I guess it is."

James managed to make it through most of the day without having any kind of huge emotional meltdown. He ate the food SHIELD gave him, and he met with the doctors he was supposed to, he calmly did the physical therapy for his broken arm the way he needed to, and he listened to more SHIELD professionals talk about how they were going to help get him back to being who he was.

* * *

It wasn't until he was sitting in a secured room and yet another specialist in front of him, showing him a picture of him and Steve from back in the day that he flipped out. SHIELD had told him that they were taking this slowly because he wasn't in the right mental or emotional state to learn everything all at once. Each day, they would show him one small thing about his past, and then—just like he was supposed to do about everything—he was supposed to talk about it and see if he could make any connections with it. Half of him was anxious about it, and the other half thought it was stupid, but he knew that this was the way to getting his memory back. And if sitting and looking at a picture of a short documentary or even a piece of his uniform and talking about it was what it took, then he would do it.

The specialist handed the picture to James, and he took it in his hands. Right away, he recognized his face. It was funny that he was starting to recognize himself more and more. The man in the picture looked more like the man he was now instead of that long-haired shit he'd had to put up with, but even then, it was a strange experience for him. The man in the picture—Bucky Barnes—didn't _feel _like him. At least he didn't think so. God, he was just tired of not knowing what he didn't know.

Bucky Barnes was smiling and faking a punch towards a smaller guy with a half-wince, half-grin on his face. James didn't need anyone to tell him that that was Steve Rogers before Steve Rogers had been injected with his Super Soldier Serum. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the picture and tried to remember something about it.

Inside, he felt nothing but confusion. Bucky Barnes looked so happy. James could not say that he was happy. He glanced up at the specialist sitting across from him, and then he looked back down at the picture. "I don't remember this."

"Do you know who that is in the picture?" the specialist asked. James was also very tired of people asking him questions, and this was only the first day of rehabilitation. He suppressed his tired sigh, and he nodded his head.

"That's Steve Rogers," he said.

"How did you know that?" the specialist asked. James rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I used my brain."

"Was that the Winter Soldier or James Barnes talking?" the specialist questioned. James wondered if this guy and Dr. Sanchez got together and talked about what questions they were going to ask him.

"I don't know," he answered. "That's not something I would have said to HYDRA, if that's what you were asking."

"James Barnes then," the specialist said. "What do you feel when you look at that picture in front of you? How does it make you feel to see that version of you?"

James glanced back down at it and tried to feel indifferent, but he was surprised to feel himself starting to get angry. That familiar sensation of anger bubbling up and boiling in his stomach started to make its presence known. He gritted his teeth. "Angry."

"Why does it make you feel angry?" the specialist asked. James didn't even know the guy's name, and he was supposed to tell him all he was feeling about this picture. There was something about that that didn't seem to be all that fair, but it looked like he wasn't going to get a say in that. His jaw clenched as he tried to get himself to breathe.

"That's not me," he said tersely. "That guy in the picture isn't me."

"That _is _you, James," the specialist said gently. He leaned forward and tapped the side of the picture that Bucky Barnes was laughing on. "That's you. Before HYDRA got to you."

James let out a cruel laugh. "HYDRA. Yeah. They sure stomped that side out pretty quickly."

"Do you feel anger towards HYDRA?" the specialist asked. James looked back up at the man, and he narrowed his blue eyes at him. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, and he glared fiercely at the man sitting opposite of him.

"I feel anger towards SHIELD," he said, his voice tense and tight. "SHIELD was developed from the SSR, and I wouldn't have gotten into all of this if it weren't for the SSR."

"How do you know about SHIELD coming from the SSR?" the specialist asked, seeming undeterred by James's anger towards the organization that was supposed to be helping him. James could feel his emotions rising up higher and higher, passing from his stomach into his chest. He curled his hands into fists.

"I'm not an idiot. I know all about you. HYDRA told me," he growled. "If it weren't for the SSR, I would have died in Italy the way I should have."

"Or Dr. Zola would have made you into something much more lethal much more quickly," the specialist countered.

"No!" James was suddenly on his feet, and with a powerful sweep of his left arm, he wiped off all the files and papers and shoved them to the floor. "You did this to me! You all did this to me!"

"Sgt. Barnes—"

"Shut up!" James screamed. He curled the fingers of his left hand under the lid of the table, and he was about to release his rage by throwing it across the room—he'd enjoy the look of fear and shock on the specialist's face when the specialist saw what he was capable of—but he didn't get to do much more than that before the tranq dart hit him in the back of the neck.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

"_Alaska. Look at me_."

Alaska looked up from her laptop to make eye contact with Carlene. "What?"

"What are you doing? Dude, you know if you can't hear what I'm saying, it makes things a hell of a lot easier if you'd just look up to see me instead of ask me to repeat myself 90 times," Carlene said. Alaska shrugged dismissively.

"I'm researching Bucky Barnes," she said. Carlene lifted her eyebrows.

"Again?" she asked.

"Well, I feel like I should know a little bit more about him if I'm supposed to like…talk to him," Alaska replied. "I only know a little bit about him from what I researched yesterday and the Lifetime Movie they did on him. And I'm smart enough to know that Lifetime Movies, while enjoyable, are not always accurate."

"Think Bucky was gay for Steve Rogers?" Carlene asked, suddenly thoughtful. Alaska gave a short laugh, and she shook her head, grinning.

"No, I don't think Bucky was gay for Steve," she said. Carlene gave her a distrusting look.

"Look, all I'm saying is that if I were a dude, and my best friend was Steve Rogers, I'd probably be gay for him," she said. She paused and squinted her eyes as she looked off into the distance. "Actually, if I were on the Avengers, I'd probably be gay for all of them."

"I can second that," Alaska added. "Scorpion and Black Widow are the luckiest women in the world for being on that team."

"Hell, the _guys _are lucky that they get them on the team, too," Carlene pointed out. "But I digress. I was just doing my own research on Bucky Barnes, and I saw that there have been some discussions on whether or not Bucky and Steve Rogers had a thing, so I wanted to know your opinion."

"Are you on Tumblr again?" Alaska asked in an accusing voice. Carlene rolled her eyes.

"No. I mean, I was earlier, but there are biographies and historical articles that talk about them possibly having been a thing. But everyone says Bucky was such a ladies' man, so I don't believe it," she replied. She let out a quiet sigh. "Isn't it weird to think that that guy who broke into our apartment was Bucky Barnes? Like, _the _Bucky Barnes. That was once the guy who was this."

She turned her laptop around to show Alaska the picture she had pulled up. Alaska moved to the end of the couch to get a better look. The picture was Sgt. James Barnes's official military portrait. He was in uniform with a serious expression on his face, but it was plain to see from the look he was wearing that being serious didn't exactly come naturally to him. Humor was written all over his features; underneath the serious-set mouth and strong forehead was a smirk that looked like it never really went away.

"Yeah," she murmured softly. "It's weird. That doesn't even look like the guy we saw yesterday."

"It doesn't," Carlene agreed. "Well, SHIELD seems to think that they can get him back."

"Hopefully," Alaska said. "I've been reading all the stuff that Black Widow leaked on the Internet, trying to understand it, and it's so much. I haven't even gotten to the stuff having to do with James."

"That was a shit ton of information she put up there," Carlene said. "Apparently, there's going to be a hearing in the next few days about what to do with her, Captain America, and Grace Marks."

"What? Why?" Alaska asked with a confused frown. "Is the government seriously pissed at them?"

"Well, they're SHIELD, and it looks like anything SHIELD these days is considered bad," Carlene replied. "And that's why I'm even more worried about your involvement with them in regards to the whole Bucky thing. A, SHIELD's being labeled a terrorist organization."

"Because of HYDRA," Alaska calmly explained. "HYDRA's the terrorist group. Not SHIELD. The government's just freaking out a little bit because HYDRA tried to blow up most of the world. Or I guess that's what they were doing. These documents are pretty difficult to read."

"When are you going to tell your parents?" Carlene asked. Alaska frowned. She knew exactly what Carlene was referring to, but she was going to take the easy way out and play dumb.

"Tell them what?" she asked.

"About what you're doing with SHIELD," Carlene said. She tucked a piece of strawberry blonde hair back behind her ear and stared calmly at Alaska. "They're going to want to know. That's not exactly the kind of thing you keep from your parents."

"I'm 26 and on my own. They don't need to know everything about my life," Alaska said. "They'll know whenever I tell them. And that's not going to be anytime soon. Besides, surely this thing won't last too long. SHIELD just wants me to come in and talk to James from time to time since they think I've made a personal connection with him or something."

"Do you feel that you did?" Carlene asked. Without hesitating, Alaska nodded.

"Yeah. I do," she said thoughtfully. "He doesn't give off any bad energy. I feel like he's got a clean spirit underneath all of the brainwashing. I think deep down he's a kindred spirit."

"So I know you've kind of described it to me before, but what do you mean when you say someone has a clean spirit?" Carlene asked. Thinking, Alaska wrinkled her nose, and she shrugged.

"I don't know," she said. "It's hard to describe. Like…I know that underneath all of his brainwashing and the bad things he's done, his spirit isn't bad. He's got a good heart. I guess that's what I mean when I say it. I mean, look at all the information you read about Bucky Barnes. Everything talks about what a great guy he was. Every interview with anyone who knew him personally said that he was amazing. That he was just as pure-hearted as Steve was. Like, he used to go bail Steve out of fights. He risked getting his own ass beaten up if it meant keeping his sickly best friend uninjured. That just doesn't seem like someone who has a bad spirit."

Carlene let out a quiet sigh, and she gave Alaska a playful look. "I'll never understand all of your New Age stuff."

"You love it," Alaska countered with a smirk. She lifted her hands from the keyboard of her laptop and went to redo her ponytail that was slipping down. "You never complain when I burn incense in the apartment."

"Ok, well, I love that part of your New Age-y stuff," Carlene said. "Even your crystal healing bowls make a nice sound."

"Nice sound? Please, it's more than _nice_. That's therapeutic," Alaska corrected. "It's healing. Exactly what it's supposed to do."

"Ok, yeah, whatever. Maybe you should heal Bucky Barnes with one of your crystal healing bowls," Carlene playfully suggested. Alaska grinned at the thought of the sullen young man with the long brown hair and deep blue eyes sitting and meditating to the sound of a crystal healing bowl.

"He'd need more than just one session of that to fix his chakras, let me tell you," she said. "And his name's James."

"He's Bucky to me."

"_James_."

"_Bucky_."

* * *

When James came to, he found that he was restrained to a hospital bed in what looked like a small medical room. Confused, he lifted his head and started to look around when he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He instinctively tensed his muscles, and he felt himself start to go into defensive mode until he noticed that the movement was from Commander Maria Hill.

"You're in our makeshift Infirmary," the commander said coolly. She was at a respectful distance so as not to make him feel claustrophobic, but she was also close enough so that he could see her. "How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit with a tranq," James replied groggily. A smile flicked over the commander's face.

"Well, that's what happened," she said. "I heard from Specialist Gregson that you got agitated over an old picture of you and Steve."

So that was what had happened. The memory flooded in James's mind, and he found himself tensely nodding. "Yes. That happened."

"Made a bit of a mess in that room. Had to spend a lot of time putting those files back together," Commander Hill said in a mild tone. James glanced over at her again with cool, blue eyes.

"At least you didn't have to buy a new table," he said. Commander Hill smiled again, though this time the smile lingered a little longer.

"That much is true," she admitted. "We had to restrain you because we weren't sure how you would be when you came to. How are you feeling?"

"Not angry, if that's what you're asking," James said, eyeing her cautiously. He looked down at the restraints.

"Yes, they're strong enough to restrain your arm." Maria answered the question he was wondering to himself. It crossed his mind then that SHIELD must have been planning this for a while. They were prepared to at some point take him into their custody. Frowning, he looked back up at Maria.

"How long have you had this?" he asked.

"Not long. For a few years," she said. He couldn't help the feeling of shock that came over his body.

"You've been after me for a few years?" he asked. Commander Hill calmly shook her head, and she took a few steps forward now that James knew she wasn't going to hurt him.

"No. We actually got these restraints for Stark," she said out loud. "If any of his suits went rogue or if we needed to restrain him in the suit to keep himself from hurting himself if any medical staff were trying to work on him."

"Howard?" James asked in disbelief. Suddenly, Commander Hill's eyes shot up to his face, and she stared at him.

"I never said anything about Howard," she said. James paused as he realized what she was saying. The name had just been on the tip of his tongue. Hearing the name Stark had made him think of Howard, but…he didn't know who Howard was. Now that he actually _thought _about it, he couldn't remember who Howard was or what he looked like.

"I don't know who he is," he said slowly as he stared up at Maria. "That was just the first name that came to my head."

"You knew Howard Stark," Maria explained. "That's probably why you thought of it. Actually, I was referring to his son Tony. Tony has some metal suits that are a lot like your arm. We got the restraints for Tony in case we ever needed them."

James listened to her, but his frown deepened even more. "I knew a Howard."

"You did," Maria said encouragingly. "You knew Howard pretty well. Captain Rogers also knew him. Howard Stark was involved with Steve's Serum, and he was in charge of running the actual transformation, itself."

"We all knew each other," James murmured, unsure if he were making a statement or asking a question. "I don't remember that."

"That's ok," Commander Hill replied evenly. "We'll help you with that. It'll be a long, frustrating process. Many days like today. Just keep that in mind."

James's eyes went back to the commander's face, but he made no indication of responding. He watched her lift her ID card and scan it over a certain point on the bedframe. The restraints slid open, and James was free to lift his arms out. Wincing, he sat up all the way. His head was pounding, and he was having trouble thinking in long sentences as a side-effect of the tranq.

"You have a visitor coming on Monday, by the way," Commander Hill said nonchalantly. "If you can keep yourself under control."

James looked at her suspiciously. "A visitor?"

"Yes. Someone's coming to see you," Hill smoothly replied, her eyes looking like they were amused by something he didn't know. James pressed his mouth together and looked at her with furrowed brows.

"Who?" he asked.

"Alaska Clark," Hill answered. "She'll be coming to spend some time with you."

James swallowed hard as he studied Hill's face, trying to figure out why she was sharing this with him. Alaska Clark was coming back. He didn't know why he felt a little relieved to hear that she was coming to see him, but he felt an undeniable sense of relief at the thought of her and all her strange qualities. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Might want to thank her for the haircut," Commander Hill said with a half-smirk. "It's almost dinnertime. Someone will be escorting you back to your room in a few minutes, and we'll have food brought to you."

"Thank you," James murmured quietly as he watched the woman turn over her shoulder and walk out of the room. Alaska Clark was coming back.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had returned for him.


	7. Connection

**Shoutouts to fluttershypegasus1, Jo, Eva7673, LilyHiddleston96, angel897, daisherz365, and Ladyofasgard for reviewng!**

**James and Alaska are back to face-to-face, and they're starting to realize just exactly how they relate to each other. I think it's pretty straightforward =)**

**Keep leaving your thoughts and opinions. I haven't been getting that much feedback, but I guess if this story's at 80 followers, it doesn't totally suck? =)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 7

When Monday rolled around, James was surprised to find himself feeling a little nervous. He'd made it through the weekend without any incident whatsoever—well, yesterday he'd had an anxiety attack that had left him drugged for the rest of the morning, but he hadn't gotten violent, a fact that had gotten Commander Hill to agree that Alaska Clark could still come on her visit on Monday.

So now that Monday was there, James was nervous. He forced himself not to fidget while he sat through therapy. Dr. Sanchez glanced up at him from his clipboard. "How are you doing this morning, James?"

"I'm fine," James answered.

"Today's a big day," Dr. Sanchez said. "Miss Clark is coming to visit you today a while."

"She is," James vaguely agreed, careful not to give any of his anxiety away. Dr. Sanchez smiled pleasantly at him. Over the past few days, James had learned not to hate Dr. Sanchez's smiles so much. That being said, he didn't _like _seeing the guy look so happy, but he didn't _hate _it.

"How do you feel about that?" Dr. Sanchez asked. James shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Are you looking forward to seeing her?" Dr. Sanchez pressed. James felt a mild flash of annoyance. What did it matter how he felt about Alaska Clark? Though really, he was glad to talk about something else for once other than himself and how he couldn't remember shit. He'd learned yesterday that he'd had a younger sister, thereby triggering his anxiety attack as he'd realized that he wasn't able to remember her at all.

"I don't really care," James answered. Dr. Sanchez raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Really? You don't care at all?" he asked. "I thought you liked Miss Clark."

"She's nice, but the kid's strange," James said. A look of amusement passed over the psychiatrist's face.

"You always say that," he pointed out. "You say that she's nice, and then you bring up the fact that she's strange. Why do you think you make those connections?"

"Because they're the first and second things that come to my mind," James answered, his tone conveying that that should have been obvious. Dr. Sanchez looked completely unbothered by James's response.

"Why do you think they are?" he asked.

"She helped me, so she was nice. Her name's Alaska, and that's strange," James replied.

"You think her name is strange?"

"Yes. No one's named Alaska."

"Few people are named Alaska."

"Ok, few people are named Alaska."

"Few people are named after presidents."

James couldn't come up with an argument there. He narrowed his eyes slightly at his psychiatrist, and then he leaned back in his chair. "Few people are also brainwashed." He glanced down at his arm. "Few people have metal arms."

"That's the first time you've mentioned your arm since you've been here, James," Dr. Sanchez pointed out. James steadily gazed at him and kept his face impassive. He knew Dr. Sanchez was waiting for him to pick up the conversation, but he wasn't going to. If Dr. Sanchez wanted him to talk about his arm, he'd have to ask him a question because there was no way in hell James was going to open that can of worms without being prompted. "Do you remember how you got your arm?"

"No," James shortly replied.

"Does your arm make you feel angry?" Dr. Sanchez asked. James resisted the urge to snort and obnoxiously roll his eyes.

"It's an arm," he said flatly. "A fake one."

"Does Miss Clark know about your arm?" Dr. Sanchez suddenly asked. James couldn't help the frown that sank down over his features. He stared at the psychiatrist with unhappy blue eyes.

"What does Miss Clark have to do with my arm?" he asked.

"When you were first brought into this facility, you were clothed nearly head to toe. Any sign of your arm was hidden by clothing," Dr. Sanchez carefully explained. "If Miss Clark knew that you had a prosthetic arm, she would have had to had prior knowledge, don't you think?"

"That doesn't make sense," James dismissively replied. "She didn't know me before I saw her. I never showed her my arm."

"Why?" Dr. Sanchez asked. Deep in his solar plexus, he felt a flash of anger.

"Why the hell would I?" he snapped. "It's a goddamn arm."

"It's just a question, James. It's simply a question," Dr. Sanchez said soothingly. Slowly and deeply, James took several breaths to level himself out. He couldn't go ballistic and start flipping tables and shit today—if he did that, he'd lose the opportunity to see Alaska Clark, and even if she was weird as hell and named after a state, it was kind of nice to know that he had someone coming to visit him.

If he had to attribute his nervousness to anything, he would probably give Alaska Clark the credit. For whatever reason, he was oddly nervous about seeing her again. Maybe it was the fact that he was there in that prison. Maybe it was the fact that this time she knew who he was. Maybe it was the fact that he'd noticed last time he'd seen her that when she smiled, she didn't exactly have dimples in her cheeks but rather little valleys that dipped downward and out to the swell of her smile. As the Winter Soldier, he'd been trained to pick up tiny physical details about people like that. He had to be able to scrutinize a face and know where every single freckle was.

Still. It made him uncomfortable to know that he'd noticed that about Alaska. It made him uncomfortable to know that a woman he had no doubt he could defeat with even just his right arm had enough power to make him feel nervous.

"When was the last time you had a real conversation with someone? A one-on-one personal conversation?" Dr. Sanchez asked. James twisted his face into a grimace as he realized that the only conversations he could really remember having were with his handlers and even then, they'd been him receiving orders or reporting back on the outcome of a mission.

"I don't know," he honestly answered.

"Oh, dear," Dr. Sanchez said with a sigh. James frowned, a scowl sweeping over his face.

"What?" he asked.

"We're going to have to go over the things that are appropriate for you to say and ask," Dr. Sanchez said. James's frown deepened.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's a different culture these days, James. The things you talk about now are very different than what you talked about back in your time. That being said, you've lost conversational skills, and those are important," Dr. Sanchez said. James gave the psychiatrist a disbelieving look.

"I haven't lost conversational skills," he protested. The doctor raised his eyebrows, as if to tell James that he was being completely ridiculous. James narrowed his blue eyes slightly. "I haven't."

"What's the first question you're going to ask Miss Clark?" Dr. Sanchez countered. James paused. He hadn't expected this question. Dr. Sanchez suddenly gave an uncharacteristic smirk—James actually didn't mind watching his psychiatrist smirk; it made Dr. Sanchez seem more human—and he shook his head. "Exactly. James, we're going to get you up to speed on how to socially interact with people."

As James realized that Dr. Sanchez was being very serious, he decided that he would have much rather preferred talking about Steve Rogers.

* * *

Alaska was due at SHIELD at 11:00, so when 11:00 rolled around, SHIELD was where she was. As she waited for one of the agents to let her into the visitation room where James was, she felt her heart start to pick up and her skin begin to heat. She always overheated whenever she was nervous, and now was definitely a time for her to be nervous. Commander Hill had given her a vague update on James's condition just moments before.

Apparently, James had made some tiny steps of progress. He was able to connect a first name with a last name, but he wasn't able to remember the person at all. He would slip up and use a phrase that he would have said when he as Bucky, but the wouldn't remember having said it before he'd been the Winter Soldier. It wasn't a lot, Commander Hill had said, but it was something.

"Miss Clark. You can go in," Agent Fulton said from his seat beside the control panels. Anxiously, Alaska nodded, and she slowly moved towards the door, turning the knob and opening it. She stepped through and saw James sitting rigidly in a chair at a table—they were always sitting across from each other, it felt like. Unable to help her reaction, her dark brown eyes widened, and her lips parted as she gasped in pleasant surprise.

"Your hair!" she quietly exclaimed as she shut the door behind her. Eagerly, most of her nervousness now gone with her shock, she walked over to the table and sat down across from him with a huge smile on her face. "You got your hair cut!"

"Yeah, I did," James replied, a small smile curving his mouth upwards. Alaska couldn't stop smiling as she looked at his now short hair. He looked familiar now. In front of her wasn't the Winter Soldier—this was Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, and she had no doubt about it.

"It looks so good," she said happily. "I'm so glad they actually gave you a haircut. I was worried they wouldn't. Do you like it?"

"Yes, ma'am, I like it a lot," James answered in an even diplomatic tone. Even if he thought Alaska Clark was weird, she sure did look nice when she smiled. Her entire face lit up—her smile was the kind of smile that could end world hunger and bring eternal peace. At the word "ma'am," she wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not a ma'am," she said. "I'm just Alaska."

"Ok," he replied. "Just Alaska." His mouth twitched as he said her name, and Alaska noticed it. She tilted her head to the side and calmly regarded him.

"What?" she asked.

"What?" James asked back.

"You looked funny when you said my name," she said, but she wasn't challenging him at all, he noticed. She was still smiling.

"That's the strangest damn name I've ever heard before," he replied. As soon as the words left his mouth, he could hear Dr. Sanchez telling him that that was _not _an appropriate thing to say. He waited for Alaska to get offended or to get…_something_. But she didn't. Instead, she just smiled even wider and shrugged it off.

"Bucky's the strangest damn nickname I've ever heard, so…you're one to talk," she replied. James inwardly winced at the use of his old nickname, and he glanced down at the table, suddenly unsure of where to put his eyes. He wanted to keep looking at Alaska, but he wasn't sure if that were rude. He didn't want her to think she was rude because he was staring at her. It was just that he'd realized she was nice to look at. It didn't really hurt to look at her—he knew that that was a strange way to think of in regards to looking at someone, but it was the truth. With her dark hair and her dark eyes, she was warm and soft to take in.

"I don't really go by that anymore," he said. He took a peek up at her and saw that she was still looking directly at him. Her eyes widened slightly, and she snapped her fingers, suddenly remembering something.

"Oh! Congratulations, by the way," she said. James frowned, confused.

"What?" he asked.

"Congratulations. Your best friend is getting married," Alaska said cheerfully. "It was just announced on the news this morning."

James paused, unable to hide the look of shock on his face. "_Steve_? He's getting _married_? You're telling me he found some poor dame to want to spend the rest of her life with his impulsive ass?"

_Was that the Winter Soldier speaking, or was that Sgt. James Barnes_?

He could hear Dr. Sanchez's voice through his head as he realized what he'd just said. Alaska seemed to have noticed, too, but she wasn't making a big deal out of it. She was just giving him a weird look and a nod, though she still had that smile on her face. He wasn't sure he'd ever met someone who smiled so much. On one hand, it was weird. On the other hand, however, it was nice. It was nice to see her smile like that, as if she had something to smile about.

"Yeah, he did," Alaska replied. "He's been seeing this girl now for two years."

"Two years," James mumbled. A look of something he couldn't identify passed over Alaska's face, and her smile dropped a little bit.

"What?" she asked.

"Two years," James repeated a little louder. As soon as she understood, she nodded, and her smile was back.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Two years. They make the cutest couple, so I'm really happy for them."

"What's her name?" James asked, suddenly feeling interested in knowing. Steve Rogers was getting married. He didn't know why he felt so happy but sad all at the same time to hear it. Steve Rogers was basically a stranger to him, and here he was feeling all of these mixed emotions to hear that the guy was going to get married.

Suddenly, he thought back to just several days ago when he'd been on board the helicarrier. He'd been under orders to kill Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Grace Marks, and Natasha Romanoff—if anyone got in his way, he was to kill that person, too. Those had been his orders. He remembered shooting lots of people without stopping to think twice, and he remembered that sense of apathy that always came over him whenever he was under orders. And most of all, he remembered that somewhere in that mess of apathy and guns and orders, he'd shot and nearly killed Steve Rogers's now fiancée.

"Emma," Alaska said. "Emma Carroll. She's kind of like the Kate Middleton of the U.S." She noticed James's confused look. "Oh. Um, the Royal family. In England. Kate Middleton was the prince's girlfriend for a really long time, but now she's married to the prince, and everyone really loves her. And everyone all across the country adores Emma Carroll, so she's like the Kate Middleton of the U.S."

"Oh," James said, his tone showing that he wasn't entirely sure that he was following. "She was hurt in the D.C. fight?"

"Yeah, she was. The doctors won't release what exactly happened to her, but she's been released from the hospital now. So this morning, she and Steve Rogers released a statement that they're engaged. It's literally all over the news," Alaska said excitedly. "I wasn't sure if anyone had told you. So. There you go."

"It was on the news?" James asked. He didn't know why he felt the need to repeat what she'd just said, but he felt like he needed to say something. He'd shot her. Oh, God, he'd shot the woman Steve was going to marry. In the back of his mind, he could hear Steve Rogers brokenly talking to him on board the helicarrier.

_That girl you just shot out on the deck? That was the girl I was going to marry. And she's…she's dead now_.

"Yeah. Do you want to see it?" Alaska asked, her voice drawing him out of his memory. James blinked as he processed what she'd asked, and then he slowly nodded. Alaska reached into her pocket and pulled her cell phone out. She could feel James's eyes on her as she pulled up Google and quickly typed the announcement into the search bar. Within seconds, she had results, and she tapped the first one, placing it on the table and sliding it over to James.

"Earlier this morning, Captain America and America's Sweetheart released a statement that they are going to be married soon. Captain Steve Rogers and Emma Carroll have been a strong, steady couple for the past two years, and now they're finally tying the knot. I know I'm not the only one when I say that I'm unbelievably happy for the two of them. Captain Rogers hasn't exactly had the easiest life so far, and I think that he deserves some happiness. He was most recently involved with the fall of SHIELD, but before that, he was known for his involvement with the Avengers in the Battle of New York two years ago," the reporter in the video said. Alaska watched James react to the news. His face was still, but it was interested. Finally, the video ended, and he sat back in his chair and looked up at her.

"I'm not really supposed to watch videos of Captain Rogers," he admitted, a small smile creeping onto his face. Alaska's eyebrows shot up into her hairline as she felt a flash of fear pass through her.

"I don't want to get in trouble," she said. "Oh, shit."

"You won't," James said, even though he wasn't sure. He watched her face relax a little bit more as she realized that no one was going to come storming in to confiscate her phone.

"God, that's nerve wracking," Alaska said with a sigh.

"How's your roommate?" he asked suddenly. "The blonde?"

"Carlene," Alaska said, a faint smile on her lips. "She's fine. She was nervous about me coming here, but she's fine. I swear she's nice. She's great. She's my best friend in the whole world, but she just gets…a little overly cautious? I don't know. She's not usually as—as rude as she was to you."

"That's ok," James honestly answered. "I broke into your apartment."

"Shit happens," Alaska said dismissively. "So how are you enjoying your time here? You look better than you did when you first showed up in my apartment."

"It's fine," James vaguely replied. Alaska's dark eyes darted to his right arm, and she frowned in confusion.

"Your—your arm," she said. Out of reflex, James felt heat starting to pool into his chest. She'd noticed his arm. She'd noticed the goddamn metal arm, and he'd been doing what he'd thought was a good job at keeping it subtle and hidden by keeping his hands below the table. "It was broken. Is it healed?"

And just as quickly as the anger and anxiety had started to fill up, it all drained out of him, leaving him feeling stunned and surprised. She'd been staring at his right arm because she'd remembered that he'd had a broken arm in her apartment. She hadn't noticed his metal arm at all—she was confused over why he wasn't wearing a cast. He glanced almost appreciatively at his right arm, and he nodded.

"Yeah, it's healed. I heal a little bit faster than most people," he said.

"I'll say," Alaska mumbled. "I broke my arm when I was 10, and I had to wait a long time before I could get my cast off."

"How'd you break it?" James asked. He could hear Dr. Sanchez inside his head rewarding him for asking her a question that showed interest in herself. Alaska grinned at the question.

"Yoga," she said.

"Yoga?" James repeated.

"Yeah. Yoga. My whole family's big into it, so I've been doing it for years," she said. "I actually teach yoga twice a week."

"I've never done yoga," James said in a voice that could almost be described as worried, as if he were worried about the fact that he'd never done yoga. Alaska shrugged and waved her hand dismissively.

"That's fine," she said. "A lot of people haven't. I just come from a family of free spirits, so I grew up with it."

"Free spirits," James repeated. He wanted to kick himself for sounding like a damn parrot, repeating everything she was saying. Alaska nodded, her confidence shining through the dark brown of her eyes.

"Yeah, like…I don't know. It's hard to describe. Carlene says it's a bunch of New Age-y shit," she said. "Healing crystals, aromatherapy, meditation, chakras…stuff like that."

"Aromatherapy?" James asked with a crinkle of his forehead, still inwardly kicking himself for repeating every damn little thing she was saying.

"Aromatherapy. It's like…scents to help you tap into certain emotions. I like to use it when I'm stressed out or high strung. Calms me down," she said. "Our apartment constantly smells like some kind of new scent because I'm always doing it."

"It helps you de-stress?" James asked curiously, his blue eyes large and interested. Alaska nodded.

"Usually. It works for a lot people, but some people also find that it doesn't really do anything," she said.

"What do you use to help you stay calm?" he questioned.

"Lavender," she replied without hesitating. "Lavender's great for promoting calm and peacefulness." She watched him absorb what she'd just said, the expression on his face looking as if he were considering trying it. "Meditation's also really helpful for keeping calm. That's why I do it at least twice a day."

"Free spirit," James murmured under his breath. It made sense in his mind then to hear Alaska describe her family as such. As he looked at her with all of her warm features, he knew that that was why he'd thought she was so strange all this time. He just hadn't known it until now. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who felt, well, free. She didn't look like she was bound to anyone or anything, and he realized just how badly he envied that.

"What?" Alaska asked with a slightly confused wrinkle of her forehead as she missed what he'd just said.

"Free spirit," he said a little louder. "I said free spirit."

"Oh. Yeah, that's my family," she replied with a tiny shrug.

"But…but can you learn to be like that?" James asked hesitantly.

"To be…what? New Age-y?" Alaska asked, her small smile creeping back over her face. James half-nodded and half-shrugged.

"Yes. No. I don't know," he said, suddenly feeling stupid for asking her these questions.

"You can learn anything. Be anything. I know it's corny, but…I think it's true," Alaska calmly replied. She watched him think about what she'd just said. He was constantly thinking, constantly listening. She didn't know much about him personally, but she knew that she liked this side of him—the side that listened as if he couldn't imagine listening to anything else. "Did you know they made a movie about you?"

James stared at her with a blank face. Had she actually just said what he thought she'd said? One second they'd been talking about something actually kind of deep, and then she'd changed the subject to talking about a movie with no warning whatsoever. "No. I don't think I'm supposed to know about that stuff."

"Shit. Sorry." Alaska felt another pang of guilt run through her. Glancing over towards the door, she waited for someone to come running in, shouting that she had to leave. But nothing happened. She looked back at James and found him looking less serious.

'Was it good?" he asked.

"It was enjoyable. It wasn't very historically accurate, I don't think, but I liked watching it," she said. James frowned.

"What was historically inaccurate?" he asked.

"I don't know all the details for sure," Alaska said. "But in the movie, there was a romance going on between you and Peggy Carter, and—"

"That's not true," James interrupted. He froze as soon as he spoke. "I think it's not. I don't remember it being true. I don't know if it is or not. But I don't think it was."

"That sounded like the start of a memory," Alaska offered up. She watched James's blue eyes flash with what looked like frustration and longing. He let out a quiet breath and looked down at the table.

"That happens a lot," he admitted.

"Yeah?" Alaska prompted. He nodded. She waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "I'm sorry all of this happened to you."

His eyes snapped up towards her, a darker shade of blue than before. "I don't want your pity."

Alaska blinked, taken aback by his sudden change in mood. "I'm—I'm not pitying you—"

"Really? Because that's what it sounded like," James snapped. He didn't know what had triggered him, but he was going now. "You have no idea what it's like to be in this place. You don't know what it's like to have people tell you what your own goddamn memories should be when it should be the other way around. You don't understand _anything _about what's happened to me."

Alaska felt the tiniest bit of fear start to grow in her chest, and she held her chest as she watched the calm man in front of her disintegrate into an angry, unrecognizable version of himself. Suddenly, she could picture him as the assassin SHIELD had told her he was. She could see him as an angry, robotic face with orders under his belt. She swallowed and took a deep breath, hating how her hands were shaking on her lap.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to…to offend you. I truly meant that I wish you hadn't gone through all of this…this pain. I can see you've experienced a lot of it, and I just wish that you hadn't."

She saw the anger drain out of his face, only to be replaced with shock and embarrassment and horror all mingling together. He sat back in his chair and pressed his lips together, his eyebrows drawing in as he realized everything that had happened in the past few seconds.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, his words blurring together. "I scared you."

"What?" Alaska asked with a wince as she tried to figure out what he'd said.

"I didn't mean to scare you," James said a little louder. "That's—that's the last thing I want to do."

"This whole thing is…new for me," Alaska said lamely. "I don't know what's ok to say or do…I mean, I just showed you a video I wasn't supposed to show you, and I told you a fact I wasn't supposed to tell you. I think it's obvious that I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Why are you here?" James asked suspiciously. Alaska's mouth spread into one of those peacekeeping smiles, and he felt the last bit of his anger and hostility drain away.

"SHIELD asked me to come talk to you," she said. "But I'm glad they did because I think you have a good spirit."

"I don't understand what that means," James said. He didn't want to admit that he didn't understand her, but he really _didn't_.

"It means that you're not a bad person," Alaska explained. James gave her a tiny smile, but it wasn't a happy one.

"Then you don't know me," he said. Alaska shook her head emphatically.

"I don't," she admitted. "But I don't get bad vibes off of you. The brainwashed version of you hasn't done some pretty things, but that's not you. That's not the real you."

She saw his eyes scan over her face. She knew he didn't believe her, but she didn't care. She'd tell it to him every day if she could in order to get him to believe her. Suddenly, it hit her that all of this was important to her. This man with those large blue eyes and the sad look on his face was important to her in a way she couldn't describe. Ever since he'd entered her apartment, he'd become important to her. She didn't know in what way just yet, but she knew that he was, and that was all that mattered.

"Why are you saying this?" James asked quietly. "You don't _know _me. I broke into your apartment. Took your food. You're talking to me like you know me."

"I don't know you," Alaska said in a conceding manner. "But I want to."

She didn't tell him that she felt as though she _couldn't _not know him now that she was here. She didn't tell him that she felt that this was where she was supposed to be. She didn't tell him that all of this had hit her just then. She just looked at him and studied his face and thought about the night she'd walked into her apartment nearly a week ago to find him wounded and hungry in her dining room. They were connected now in a way she couldn't explain, but that was ok. She didn't _want _to explain it. Alaska didn't look as James as her duty or her charity case—she looked at him as someone she knew she wanted to watch grow. She wanted to see him remember little bits about his past. She wanted to see him realize that he wasn't the Winter Soldier, that he was James Barnes.

"You're a kindred spirit," she said out loud. "I can feel it."

"I don't understand what that means," James said with a confused frown.

"It means that you and I, James Barnes, are more alike than either of us realized," she said. And as she looked at James, she knew that he was beginning to realize it, too.


	8. Work

**Shoutouts to Eva7673, niennavalier, NicoleR85, fluttershypegasus1, Thatshippingfangirl14, Ladyofasgard, LilyHiddleston96, Idon'twriteIleak, Jo, Ezekyell, angel897, Kaanae, and Guest for reviewing! I think that's the most reviews I've gotten on a chapter, so yay!**

**Since I've given James a lot of attention the past few chapters, this one is focused more on Alaska. We definitely get to see more of what a regular day for her is like, and we get to see her interact with her employees =)**

**As always, let me know what you think. I absolutely love all the feedback I got this past chapter! I know it took me a while to update, but reviews really do keep me motivated to update quickly! =)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 8

An hour and a half later, Alaska didn't want to leave. She hadn't known what to expect on her visit with James Barnes, but she'd wound up enjoying herself. He was quiet, and he seemed to prefer listening to her talk than actually speaking himself, but he was a good listener.

She'd wound up talking about college more than anything, much to her surprise. She told James about how she and Carlene had been roommates their freshman year at American University and had wound up rooming all throughout their college career. However, she skipped over the part of her life where she'd gone back home to Maryland for three years, and she acted like she and Carlene had decided to just live together straight out of college. That was always easier than trying to explain what had happened.

She might have thought James was a kindred spirit, but she didn't want him knowing certain things about her just yet. Particularly one thing. She pushed the thought out of her head as she finished up talking about how Carlene had gotten the position at the Museum of American History as their Education Coordinator when James surprised her by speaking.

"What did you study in school?" he asked.

"Oh, I was an Anthropology major with a double minor in Religion and History. That's how Carlene and I got paired up as roommates. She was a History major, and I was a Minor, and I guess Residence Life thought we'd get along," she replied. James's face changed as soon as she mentioned the Religion minor—she watched him process her words and think about them. That was the thing. He seemed to think about what she said, as if he really wanted to understand everything she was saying.

"You're religious?" he slowly asked. He looked at her hard, as if he were trying to figure out what religion she was just on appearances alone. She knew that if that were what he was trying to do, he'd probably come up with one that wasn't so flattering. Just based off of what she was wearing, she didn't look like a stereotypically good Catholic girl or a nice, young Christian—with her dark skinny jeans, Chacos, and loose tank top with a faded picture of a dolphin on it, she didn't look like she fit any kind of Christian stereotype at all. And that wasn't even paying attention to the long, untouched mess that was her hair. It wasn't that her hair was _messy_, per se—it just didn't look like it'd been blown dry and straightened, and she knew that in the kind of circles Carlene ran in, that was considered messy.

"Oh, Jesus, no," Alaska answered with a laugh. She shook her head, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders with the movement. "If I had to be anything, I'd say that I tend to follow Buddhist beliefs, but that's if I had to push myself towards a religion. I just think it's interesting." She watched him understand everything she'd said. "You religious?"

"Oh. I don't know," he replied. "I think I used to believe in God."

"Do you now?" Alaska asked. He stared at her with those blue eyes of his as if he were seeing her for the first time.

"I don't know," he repeated, though this time his voice sounded unsure. "Do you?"

"No," Alaska said quietly. She held his gaze for a few seconds, and then she looked away. "I should probably go. I've been here for close to two hours, and I need to get back to the store."

"Bookstore?" James asked, remembering that she ran a bookstore. She smiled at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I kind of didn't tell my employees that I was going to be gone for so long, so I'm sure they're wondering where I am," she replied. "Well…it was nice talking to you again, James. I enjoyed myself."

She watched his eyebrow furrow in thought, and she waited for him to reply. A mildly awkward silence filled the room as neither knew how to end the conversation. Honestly, Alaska didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay and talk to James if it meant that he was getting something out of this—she didn't know why Commander Hill had been so adamant about her coming to talk to him, but she liked it, and she kind of got the vibe that he didn't 100% hate it.

"Ok," he said finally.

"I'll be back on Thursday around the same time. So I'll see you then." Alaska kept smiling at him, and she stood up from the table. James looked up at her with expressionless blue eyes.

"You'll be back Thursday?" he asked.

"You bet I will," Alaska replied. "Mondays and Thursdays are when I come see you."

"Ok," James said. "Ok."

"I'll see you soon, Sgt. Barnes," she said. She watched his face completely change from being thoughtful to almost disturbed, and he nodded. Knowing she wasn't going to get anything else as part of her goodbye, she turned and walked out of the room. She could feel James watch her as she walked away, but much to her pleasant surprise, she didn't get the feeling that he was watching her because he was objectifying her or anything creepy like that—if anything, she thought he was watching her because he couldn't quite figure her out.

And that was something she was used to. It wasn't uncommon for people to think she was peculiar, but admittedly, being in D.C. had kind of gotten rid of the stigma she'd received back home in Maryland. She was used to people not quite getting the whole meditation/free spirit thing, and that was ok. It didn't bother her, just like it didn't bother her that James didn't seem to understand how to react to her, either.

Agent Fulton sat in the holding room as she shut the door behind her. "That went remarkably well."

"I would so," Alaska replied. "He's nice. He's a very nice man."

"You're really the only one he's nice to, to be honest," Agent Fulton blithely replied. Alaska frowned as she heard the information.

"Everyone keeps saying stuff like that," she said. "Is he really all that bad to be around? Because I haven't seen that side of him. He got a little mad earlier, but…"

"Yeah, we thought for a second we'd have to tranq him in front of you, and that was not going to pretty," Agent Fulton answered with a deep sigh. "He's not bad. Nowhere near as bad as we all thought he was going to be, but…"

"But what?" Alaska prompted. Agent Fulton stared at her for a few seconds, and then he quietly let out a breath.

"Are you familiar with brainwashing, Miss Clark?" he asked.

"No…I'm not," Alaska replied slowly.

"Brainwashing is a complicated process that's even more complicated to undo. For someone like Sgt. James Barnes, who's been under this process for 70 years, we thought he was going to be far more violent and stubborn than he's being. The way he is now? That's a gift," Agent Fulton explained. "We don't know exactly why or what happened in his wiring, but…he's been giving us a good go of it so far."

"Could that change?" Alaska asked curiously. She folded her arms over her chest and gestured with her head back towards the visitation room she'd just left. "Could he get worse?"

"He could," Agent Fulton admitted with a nod of his head. "But we're hoping he gets better."

"I know you didn't ask my opinion, but…" Alaska paused as she noticed a fleeting grin pass over Agent Fulton's mouth, "I think you guys should let Steve Rogers know. I mean, that's his best friend in there. Agent, have you been to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit on Steve Rogers?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't," Agent Fulton answered, his face showing that he didn't know where Alaska was going with this.

"You should go. Steve Rogers talks about Bucky Barnes a little bit in one of the videos. Bucky Barnes was his best friend in the whole world. I can't imagine that it's easy for him to sit back after knowing Bucky's out here, not knowing what's happening to him," she replied.

"Captain Rogers has actually gone in pursuit of the Winter Soldier," Agent Fulton said. Alaska frowned, her mouth drawing downward as she noticed the change in Agent Fulton's address of James Barnes.

"The Winter Soldier?" she asked, confused. Agent Fulton looked mildly chastised, and he cautiously nodded, looking as if he were afraid that someone was going to come in and yell at him for saying something he shouldn't have. Not so deep down, Alaska had a feeling that SHIELD was exactly the kind of organization that did stuff like that. Secrets weren't supposed to be leaked, hence why it had been such a big deal for Black Widow to release all of SHIELD's intel on the Internet, even though it'd been to expose HYDRA.

"The Winter Soldier," Agent Fulton repeated. "That's what the intelligence community called Sgt. Barnes. The brainwashed version of him."

"Oh," Alaska vaguely answered as she felt a chill come over her spine. "Well. Thank you for letting me in to see him. I'll be back at the same time on Thursday."

"Of course, Miss Clark," Agent Fulton replied with a polite nod of his head. "We'll see you on Thursday."

As Alaska walked out of the room and down the hall to head back out to her car, she thought about everything SHIELD had told her in regards to James Barnes. His codename or whatever had been the Winter Soldier—that was who he'd been because of HYDRA's influence over him. The name sounded cold and unfeeling, the total opposite of the energy that she got off of James. Even underneath all his confusion, she knew that he was warm and had a heart.

* * *

Susanna glanced up from her book when Alaska came clanging in through the front door. Curiously, the 20 year old brunette looked up at the 26 year old brunette, and she gave Alaska a onceover.

"Where've you been, boss?" she asked in her typically flat voice. "Benito and I were taking bets on how we thought you'd died."

"Susanna, the only reason I haven't fired you yet is because my favorite professor asked me to hire you here to hopefully get you interested in _something_," Alaska replied shortly. The girl's facial expression remained unchanged, though she did look more interested and alive than she usually did.

"Last week you told me the only reason you haven't fired me yet is because I bring in the college crowd," Susanna pointed out.

"Well, that's true," Alaska admitted as she made her way back behind the small counter and took her spot in her favorite chair on the opposite side of Susanna's chair. "You bring in the college crowd, but God, you give off the worst vibes."

"Thanks. It's true, though," Susanna deadpanned. "So where were you? I bet that you'd been hit by a bullet in another government battle, but Benito bet that you got hit by a car. He's so unimaginative."

"One, he asked that we call him Benny, and two, where is he?" Alaska asked.

"He's doing inventory in the back, but after that he has to restock some of the shelves. You missed the group of teenagers that was in here earlier. They nearly destroyed the Erotica section, if you know what I mean. And no, before you ask, they weren't friends or relatives of mine," Susanna droned. Alaska nodded as she listened to the young college student talk, and then she let out a sigh as she relaxed back into her chair.

"Ok. So no one's died yet today," she said.

"Not yet. So what kept you?" Susanna asked, her dark grey eyes examining Alaska curiously. For a half-second, Alaska thought about indulging the young girl since Susanna rarely felt interested in anything aside from her cell phone or her books, but she remembered Commander Hill's stern expression that she wore all the time, and she realized that she probably wasn't supposed to say anything to anyone.

"Just running some errands," Alaska replied nonchalantly. "Because, Susanna, when you're an adult, you have to do those kinds of things."

Amusement passed over Susanna's face, and she let out a little snort. "Please, Alaska, you're 26. That's barely even an adult. You've been out of school for four years. You just got lucky with the store."

"Ok, well, yeah, I did get lucky," Alaska reluctantly admitted. "But I still pay bills while your parents pay your room and board and tuition at American."

"And four years ago, your parents were doing the exact same thing," Susanna countered. Alaska tried to think of a retort, but she couldn't come up with anything, so she let it go. Her day had started off too abnormally for her to waste the time and energy needed to argue with Susanna actually arguing with Susanna. And even though Susanna was an apathetic pain in the ass, Alaska liked her. Susanna was smart and dry and witty once you got past the emotionless monotone in which she talked and the bored attitude she always had about her.

"Is that my boss alive and well?" Benny appeared from between two rows of bookshelves. Alaska grinned at the guy and nodded.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm alive. Not attacked by the government or hit by a car or anything," she replied.

"Good, good. Susanna and I were worried," Benny answered. He paused and glanced over at Susanna, who was steadily gazing back and forth between him and Alaska. "Well, I was mainly worried. Susanna, I don't know."

"Honestly, I was wondering who was going to inherit the store if you died," Susanna spoke up. "Even though it'd be totally cool to own a bookstore, I was hoping you'd leave it to Benito."

"I'm—I'm not leaving the store to anyone," Alaska said.

"Are you stressed? You look stressed," Susanna pointed out. Alaska bit down the retort on the edge of her tongue, and then she physically bit down on her tongue to keep her words in check. Susanna kept gazing at her with that apathetic stare of hers, and then Alaska gave in and sighed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm stressed," she admitted. "It's been a crazy morning. Running errands."

"Meditate, boss," Susanna replied. Her dark eyebrows lifted, and she looked something close to bored instead of apathetic, which for her meant that she was excited, and she sat a little straighter in her chair. "Oo, you should light some of that incense. I don't totally hate it whenever you burn it in here. Besides, the focus group said that they really loved it."

Alaska frowned in confusion, wrinkling her forehead. "What? Focus group? What are you talking about, Susanna?"

"Well, Benito and I got into an argument over whether or not we thought the customers liked the incense. I mean, don't get me wrong—we both like it, but we weren't sure if the customers did, so we got a focus group in here, and they all answered a survey, and they liked it. Everyone did," Susanna droned. Alaska stared at the girl in silence, and Susanna stared back. Finally, Susanna blinked and wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"You actually did something useful around here," Alaska said. Dismissively, Susanna rolled her grey eyes and lifted her book back up to her nose as she disappeared behind it.

"You sound surprised," she said flatly. "I can do useful things when they interest me."

"Maybe you should go into Sociology if you're interested in that kind of thing," Alaska suggested. Susanna gave her a blank look and didn't indicate one thing or another.

"Bottom line is that I did something," she replied.

"Well, I'm actually the one who does most of the work around here. Me, Ella, Mary Ann, and Joe," Benny added. Alaska glanced over at him and nodded to let him know that she understood.

"Alaska can't fire me because she's doing her favorite professor a favor," Susanna replied. "And she has to admit that her sales have gone up considerably since she hired me three months ago."

"That's beside the point, Susanna," Alaska said as she suppressed the urge to heave another sigh.

"Oh, hey, I wrote down some useful things," Susanna said, lowering her book. "I totally forgot. But I did do something. So you know how everyone's all like, freaking out over the SHIELD attack? Well, there was a couple in here earlier asking for some Captain America books. I definitely think you should increase the shipment orders on Cap books because people are going crazy for Captain America. Like, there was that one couple that came in, and then there were some moms and their kids coming in looking for some kid-friendly Cap books. Totally think you should up the Cap books."

"Look at that, Susanna. _Sociology_," Alaska insisted. Uncharacteristically, Susanna offered up a tiny smile before retreating behind her book. Alaska took a quick peek at the title of the book her employee had had her nose in for the past week. "_Crime and Punishment_?"

"It's cool," Susanna replied, and she didn't say anything else. Alaska opened the drawer behind the counter beside her and pulled out her notebook to jot down that she should order some more Captain America books. Interestingly enough, everything seemed to be leading back to Captain America. Sure, she'd always known about the American superhero who'd gone from average human to superhuman, but now it seemed as though reminders of Captain Rogers were everywhere. And with reminders of Captain Rogers came reminders of Bucky Barnes.

"Who's coming in at five till closing tonight?" Alaska asked without looking up at Benny.

"Mary Ann and Joe. Ella was talking about coming in, too, if she got out of rehearsal early," Benny replied. Alaska looked up with a pleased smile and sighed pleasantly.

"Perfect. What would I do without you guys?" she asked.

"Be more stressed than you already are," Benny answered. "I'm going to go finish up in the back. I still have a bit more inventory to take. Hey, Susanna, if you get bored, you can always come help out."

"I'm busy reading about how to commit the perfect crime." Susanna's voice conveyed that she definitely wasn't interested in going back to help with inventory any time soon or, in fact, at all.

"You know, I don't think I'm the only one when I say that I worry about you," Benny said with a sigh, and then he disappeared back into the rows of books. Alaska saw Susanna look up from her book and grin.

"Hey, so are you going to burn some of that incense shit because I'd totally love some that right about now," Susanna said.

"Only if you'll light it." Alaska smirked with victory as she watched Susanna set down her book and get up out of her chair. The brunette glanced back over her shoulder at Alaska and rolled her eyes.

"Don't look so excited. You and Dr. Halperin are always trying to get me interested in stuff. Just because I like your incense doesn't mean I like everything," she clarified.

"You should switch your major," Alaska said.

"Majors are stupid. They're a societal construct designed to make you think you're doing something useful in school, but really, class is just class, and the professors are just professors," Susanna said in her monotone. Alaska lifted her eyebrows, impressed.

"You know, I have to say that it's never boring having you around," she remarked. Again, she was rewarded with another rare smile.

"Aren't you glad you can't fire me?" Susanna walked back to her seat and dropped down into her chair as if all the energy had drained completely out of her body. "So what errands were you running?"

"Government stuff," Alaska replied with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look on her face.

"That doesn't surprise me. You seem like the kind of person who'd be working for the government. Under all that peace and love shit, you're a cold-blooded killer," Susanna said in a matter of fact. Then she squinted her eyes and tilted her head thoughtfully to the side. "Actually, you don't look like you'd be a killer. Just like…a snitch."

Alaska wondered why people always thought she was the weird one. She narrowed her eyes back at Susanna with curiosity. "Why does it matter to you so much what I do for the government or where I was today?"

"_Well_, Alaska, it's _great _that you asked," Susanna emphasized in her toneless voice. "I like to think of us as not only employer-employee but friend-friend. I'm also really nosy and like to know everything that goes on all the time."

Alaska narrowed her eyes even more. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with the Susanna Walker I know and employ?"

"A near death experience will totally change your life, Alaska," Susanna blithely answered. Alaska shot the girl a confused look.

"Near death experience?" She lifted her dark eyebrows in amusement. "Are you calling the HYDRA attack a near death experience? Wait—you weren't even here last week when it happened."

"But it got me thinking about the people I don't really hate completely that I guess are kind of like my friends, and I thought about the fact that you never know what's going to happen. Like, when you were late getting here, it was a total possibility that you could've been hit by a car or something. You never know what's going to happen," Susanna intoned. "And you were right. I wasn't here last week when it happened, which is kind of unfortunate because I probably would have seen Steve Rogers running around downtown, and he's my number one celebrity crush."

"Yeah, he's hot," Alaska agreed.

"See, look, we're having a moment," Susanna pointed out. "We definitely just bonded over a gorgeous guy. You knew there was a reason you didn't fire me except for the fact that you told Dr. Halperin you wouldn't. Beneath all that zen but tough attitude, Alaska, you're not 100% awful. "

"Thanks…" Alaska tried to think of something to say in response to Susanna's weird assessment of her, but thankfully, she didn't have to because the brunette lifted her book up and went back to reading. Suddenly, her phone started buzzing, and she pulled it out to see that it was Carlene. "Hello?"

"Hey. So I found out some things today that you'll think are interesting," Carlene said into the phone with that voice she always used whenever she knew something she knew Alaska would die to find out.

"Yeah? About what?" Alaska asked, her interest piqued.

"Bucky Barnes. Looks like the Air & Space Museum isn't going to be the only Smithsonian museum that has a Captain America exhibit," Carlene replied. "I was just asked to head up a kid-friendly, interactive exhibit on good ole Cap and his Howling Commandos."

"What, seriously? God, I'd kill to have your job," Alaska groaned. Yeah, if she hadn't been surrounded by Captain America and Bucky Barnes before, she was definitely surrounded by the two men now. Her life was sometimes a joke, she thought briefly to herself.

"Yep. Thought you'd like to know. Technically I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but I thought you'd get a kick out of it. Anyway, I'm looking forward to hearing all about your little date when you get home tonight," Carlene said. Alaska could practically hear the smirk in her roommate's voice. She felt her face flushing, and she looked away so that Susanna couldn't see her, even though Susanna appeared to be completely absorbed in her book.

"Jesus, that's such a fucked up thing for you to say," Alaska said crossly. "I just went and talked, and it was fine."

"Alright. Well, hey, I have to go because I've got a meeting in like, five minutes, so I'll see you tonight," Carlene said, her voice rushed. Alaska didn't really catch the last part of what her roommate had said, but she hurried up and said goodbye, hanging up the phone.

"Was that the Smithsonian Barbie?" Susanna asked without peeking up from her book.

Unable to help herself, Alaska grinned at the description. "Yes, Susanna. Yes, it was."

She couldn't wait to get home and talk to Carlene.


	9. Rain

**Shoutouts to Jo, Eva7673, angel897, eriindelle, courage-mylittlelionheart, Ladyofasgard, niennavalier, thenightowl57, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing!**

**Alright, I know it's been a while since I last updated, but bear with me, guys! Also, this story broke 100 follows, so I'm super excited over that! Wow!**

**I'm glad that y'all liked Susanna and thought she was interesting! I like her a lot and can't wait to start adding more with her in it, so I'm glad that her character has gotten a pretty positive response so far.**

**There are some questions about Alaska's past, but y'all will just have to wait and see =) In this chapter, you get a little bit more of a clue as to what happened, but don't worry. You don't find out just yet heh heh**

**Let me know what you think! Every single review is valuable, and I love reading what you have to say.**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 9

James spent the rest of the day thinking about Alaska Clark. He still thought she was weird as hell, but there was an inherent sweetness and selflessness about her that he'd picked up during their last meeting. She might have been into all that weird smelling stuff and meditation stuff that he didn't even know was really a thing, but she had a genuinely positive feeling around her that left James feeling not so hopeless as he'd felt before he'd seen her.

Maybe that was why he'd gone back to her apartment the next day. He thought about that in the middle of his hands-on therapy session with Specialist Gregson. He knew he should have been focusing on the photograph of his old grammar school, but he just couldn't get his mind to focus on it because he simply couldn't stop thinking about Alaska. Maybe he'd gone back to her apartment because he'd unknowingly picked up on her natural kindness, and he'd known that she would have helped him.

"James? James, are you with me?" Specialist Gregson tilted his head slightly, and James was brought back into the room. He stared at Specialist Gregson and realized that he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing—from a quick assessment, he was able to tell that Gregson had asked him a question, and he'd neglected to answer it since he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" the specialist asked.

"Stuff," James answered. Gregson stared impassively at him.

"You can work all of these memories out, or you can keep them bottled in. Your choice," he said blandly. James couldn't help the smirk that lifted the corners of his lips in appreciation. He didn't mind being called out on his shit every once in a while; that was the thing with Dr. Sanchez. Dr. Sanchez treated him as though he were a fascinating subject that had to be dealt with carefully, but Gregson wasn't afraid to call him out when he thought James was being a shit.

"I'm not having memories," James replied.

"Yeah? What's on your mind then?" Gregson asked curiously. James still didn't trust anyone here at SHIELD; if he were forced to pick someone that he trusted amongst everyone there at the facility, it would have been Commander Hill, but even then, he would have been pulling at strings. He didn't want to talk to Specialist Gregson about the thoughts that were swirling through his head about Alaska Clark, but he also didn't _not _want to, either.

"What do you know about Alaska Clark?" he asked. Gregson squinted his eyes slightly as he assessed the question, and he gave a shrug.

"Not much," he said. "I was given a very quick debriefing on her a few days ago when I was informed that she would be a consistent figure in your life. Why do you ask?"

"She visited today. That's all," James said casually. Gregson gave him a look that told James he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Yeah?" Gregson asked. "That's all?"

"So you don't know her or anything?" James asked. Gregson shook his head.

"Nope. Don't know her," he said. "All I know about her is that she hit you with a frying pan after you broke into her house, she owns a bookstore, she's from Maryland, she's 26, and she's losing her hearing."

James paused on the last piece of information that Gregson had shared, and he stared at the man in shock. She hadn't told him that—granted, she actually hadn't told him a lot about herself now that he thought about it. Sure, she'd told him about her time at college, but she'd never actually told him much about _her_. She liked history and hippie stuff. To hear Gregson drop this new fact on him made him go completely still with astonishment.

"She's…what?" he asked.

Gregson looked confused, but he repeated his statement. "She's losing her hearing. You didn't know that?"

"No…I didn't…" James didn't know what else to say. As he thought back to all of the interactions he'd had with her—the very _few _interactions he'd had with her—it made sense. He remembered her asking "What?" several times during their conversations, and at the time, he hadn't put much thought into it, but it just…it made sense. The way she watched him so intently whenever he talked, as if she were trying to read his body language and his facial expressions…it made sense.

"I thought maybe that that was why you'd taken such a liking to her in the first place," Specialist Gregson replied. James shot him a confused look. The specialist nodded towards James's arm. "You both have a little extra something to work with. You're not what the rest of the world sees as being perfectly complete. I thought you knew about her hearing, and that was why you'd formed such a connection with her. You two can relate to each other better than anyone else can."

"Is she sick?" James asked, his mouth drawing together as he thought about the possibility of Alaska Clark in all her strange kindness being sick. Specialist Gregson shook his head, and James felt a sense of relief pass over him.

"No, not to my knowledge. I wasn't given any records about her hearing loss. I just know that she has it," Gregson answered calmly.

_Well_, James thought blandly to himself, _now so do I_.

* * *

Somehow, Alaska managed to make it through the rest of Monday, all of Tuesday, and all of Wednesday. However, by the time Thursday had rolled around, she wasn't in the mood to do anything.

Rain poured down the glass pane of her car's window shield as she balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder. Technically, she knew that what she was doing was dangerous, but she'd been avoiding Shane's calls for the past few days, and she knew she needed to talk to him before he got suspicious about what was going on in her life. He might not have been into the free spirit things the way she and their parents were, but he could still pick up on her moods better than anyone else she knew, except for Carlene.

Reluctantly, she'd been avoiding most of her family's phone calls because she was horrible at keeping secrets. She wanted to tell her parents and her brother about what she was doing with SHIELD, but she knew she shouldn't, and so the best thing for her to do, she'd decided, was to keep a bit of a distance between herself and them so that she wouldn't be tempted. So far, that'd proven to be quite difficult since Shane had been upping the calls more than usual.

"Look, it isn't even that long of a drive. You just drive on up here, have dinner, stay the weekend, and then you go back on Sunday. Al, it's like, an hour's drive. It really isn't that long at all," Shane said logically into the phone. Alaska sighed audibly and squinted her eyes to try to see through the rain. Driving in D.C. was the worst, but driving through the rain was even more hellish.

"I really can't leave the store this weekend. I wish I could, but I can't," she said. "If I leave it, it'd basically just be Susanna and Mary Ann running it, and it's not really fair to make them stay all day. I'd like to give them a half day if I can."

"Is the store really going to be _that _busy?" Shane asked.

"Watch your tone, asshole," she gently chided. "Yeah, it's going to be busy. I've been selling out of Captain America books ever since the whole SHIELD thing happened last week. The store's been packed."

"You know, I'm pleasantly surprised that your store's still up and running. I thought with now being the technology age, you wouldn't be able to last that long since everyone's switching to e-books and shit," Shane mildly remarked.

"Well, yeah, if we're being honest, I'm surprised, too, but hey, I'm not complaining. Business is amazing right now," Alaska said. Suddenly, the car in front of her slammed on its brakes, and she shoved her foot to the mat to avoid hitting it. "Fuck! Goddammit—I swear the drivers in D.C. are the worst."

"That's not very zen of you, Al," Shane deadpanned. "Wait—are you driving right now? Are you driving and talking on the phone to me in this kind of storm? Get off the phone, Al."

"Shane, it's fine—"

"Where the hell are you even going? You don't drive in the city unless you're going somewhere important. Aren't you supposed to be at the store right now? Where are you going?"

Alaska longed to smash her head against the cool glass of the window beside her face, but she didn't. Instead, she took a deep breath and cleared her mind, and then she opened her mouth to reply. "I'm having a meeting with Dr. Halperin today."

"Are you firing Susanna?" The grin in Shane's voice was obvious, and Alaska couldn't help the smirk that slid over her mouth.

"No, I'm not firing her. I'm just meeting with Dr. Halperin. Seeing what's up. If maybe she thinks Susanna would be more suited for Sociology. That seems to be the only thing Susanna really likes other than her phone," she answered. "Carlene keeps telling me I should fire her, but I think Carlene just hates that Susanna calls her the Smithsonian Barbie."

"Well, she's not wrong," Shane admitted. "You usually don't drive to American, though. Public transpo will take you there, right?"

"Yeah, it does." Alaska's mind raced to come up with a good excuse. "I just wanted to drive. I haven't taken my car out for a while, and I thought that I should probably get back behind the wheel to test it out."

"Alaska—"

"I'm fine, Shane. Really. I promise you. I have to go now, though, ok? I'll think about coming up this weekend, but I can't promise anything, so don't expect it to happen. I miss you. Bye." She hung up the phone before Shane had a chance to reply. The last thing she needed was him bugging her about how she was doing and why she was driving. First off, he probably thought she was driving for all the wrong reasons, and second of all, she didn't want to tell him that she was driving to a secret SHIELD location to meet with a deadly, brainwashed HYDRA assassin. Knowing her brother, that conversation wouldn't have ended too well.

Thankfully, she wasn't too far from the SHIELD facility, and it wasn't long before she was pulling into the hidden parking lot and opening the door to step out into the rain. One thing Alaska didn't like about D.C. was how it didn't rain there very often. She loved rainy weather more than any other type of weather in the world, so whenever it rained in D.C., she tried to take advantage of it by walking out in it. And today wasn't disappointing her. While Alaska loved all kinds of rain, she especially loved the kind where it was so hard even she could hear it snapping against her skin. Eagerly, she walked through the already forming puddles in the parking lot, smiling as the water started to weigh down her hair and darken her shirt in small, scattered spots. At this rate, it wouldn't take long before she was soaked.

She was so happy just being in the damn rain that she nearly missed Agent Fulton standing at the sliding glass doors for her with an umbrella in his hand.

"Miss Clark!" he greeted over the sound of the hard-hitting rain. "You shouldn't have driven in this weather!"

"That's ok!" she shouted back. "I love this!"

The young agent gave her a weird look, but he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he just walked with her through the sliding doors and shook out his umbrella once they were inside. Alaska felt like an immature kid from how widely she was smiling over having just been caught in a downpour, but she couldn't bring it in herself to care. However, out of decency, she shook off her arms and legs a little bit to make it look like she wasn't a _complete _child whenever it came to the rain.

"Alaska." Commander Hill's smooth voice greeted her, and Alaska looked up to see the dark-haired woman walking up to her. "You look like you just jumped into a swimming pool."

Alaska looked down at herself and then back up at Commander Hill with a slightly guilty smile. "I don't use umbrellas. I think it forms an unnecessary disconnection between nature and humanity."

"And I am not surprised at all to hear you say something like that," Maria replied without blinking an eye. She glanced over at Agent Fulton. "Thank you for escorting her in. I'll take it from here, Agent Fulton."

"Yes, ma'am," Fulton replied. Alaska wanted to thank him for letting her in, too, but just as quickly as Commander Hill had arrived, he had disappeared. It was just Alaska and Maria Hill, and Alaska didn't know what to make of it. It wasn't that she disliked the commander—she just didn't know what kind of reading to take away from her. Maria Hill was very good at closing herself off, something that Alaska wasn't used to in a person, and that messed up with how well she could get in tune with Maria's energy.

"I wanted to talk to you about Barnes," Maria said as she started walking. Alaska wasn't surprised. Basically, her only connection to SHIELD was through James Barnes, so to hear Maria tell her that she wanted to talk about James was kind of like stating the obvious.

"What about him? Is he ok?" Alaska asked, a concerned frown starting to settle over her face.

"Yes. He's fine. He actually had a memory break through last night, so that was good," Maria replied. She glanced at Alaska from the corners of her eyes. "He's been asking around about you."

"What?" Alaska asked, confused. "He's been asking about me?"

"He asked Specialist Gregson about you, and then he asked Dr. Sanchez and two more agents if they knew you. Seems you always leave a very good impression with him," Maria said. Alaska chewed on the inside of her lip.

"Am I not supposed to?" she asked, still confused. She looked up at the taller woman with a frown on her face, the worry shining through her features.

"No, we want him to form a connection with you. Like I've said before, he responds to you better than he responds to any of us. With SHIELD, he's surly and close-mouthed, and he doesn't exactly give us an easy time. He resists almost everything we do. But with you, he openly talks to you. That's good. We want that to keep happening," Maria said. Suddenly, she slowed her pace down to a stop, and she looked at Alaska. Her face was serious as she looked at the younger woman. "Specialist Gregson told him about your hearing."

Alaska blinked in surprise, and she looked away from Maria. "Oh. Why?"

"He thought Barnes already knew. Barnes asked him what he knew about you, and he listed that as one of the things," Maria replied. Alaska could feel Commander Hill's blue eyes staring at her, carefully watching her face for any kind of a reaction, so she tried to keep her face as calm and unemotional as possible.

"Ok," she said with a casual shrug. "I don't care that James knows."

"I know about the accident, Alaska," Hill said quietly. As soon as the words left the commander's mouth, Alaska thought she was genuinely going to throw up. Her entire body froze, and she stared at Maria Hill with an unbridled, stunned expression; she wished she could have remained impassive, but she couldn't help herself. She just stared with her mouth slightly open as she struggled to recover.

"Why do you know about that?" she asked in a low tone. Her eyes darted up and down the hall to see if anyone else was coming, but it seemed to be just her and Maria.

"I looked into your files. Read up on you," Hill replied. "I needed to know who I was letting into my facility."

"Right. Right." Alaska self-consciously lifted a hand and dragged it through her hair. Suddenly, she no longer felt happy and alive from the life force of the rain—she felt deflated and wet and ridiculous. Her throat tightened, and she finally made herself look away from Maria. "What all do you know about it?"

"Everything," Hill said, still careful to keep her voice quiet. "As a Level 10 operative of SHIELD, it's not difficult to find classified information."

Alaska nodded and kept her eyes averted. "Did you tell James?"

"No. My place is to figure out your story. Not repeat it." Commander Hill's voice was filled with sincerity, and Alaska forced herself to look back at the woman. Her dark eyes scanned over Commander Hill's face, trying to find any amount of dishonesty there, but she couldn't find any. Swallowing, she nodded slowly.

"Thanks," she said.

Hill nodded once, and then she started walking. For a brief second, Alaska considered turning on her heel and running out to the car so that she could be alone. She no longer felt as though she could do this after Maria had dropped that bombshell on her. She no longer felt as though she could sit in a room with James Barnes and try to act happy and positive when she just wanted to be alone in her room.

But she didn't do that. She forced herself to move forward, and she walked down the hall beside the commander. Neither of them spoke until they were at the holding room right outside the visiting room that separated James from the hallway.

"You can go right on in whenever you're ready," Hill said. Alaska lifted her bag.

"I have things in my bag," she said. "Don't you have to like, search it or something?"

"Agent, check her bag." Commander Hill stepped off to the side while one of the agents at the surveillance cameras came over to Alaska to take her bag and look through it. The agent glanced up at Alaska with a confused look on his face, but he gave her the bag back and looked over at Hill.

"She's all good, ma'am," he said. "No contraband."

"Alright. Go in whenever you're ready, Alaska," Hill said. Alaska still felt as though she had the option to run. If she wanted out, she could just say so, and she'd be done. SHIELD couldn't hold her here against her will, she reasoned to herself. Well, actually, they probably _could _hold her there if they wanted to. They were a government organization, and the government didn't always play by the rules. If they wanted to make sure that she died and was erased from history, she had no doubt that SHIELD could make that happen.

But she looked over at the live stream of the surveillance cameras inside the room with James, and when she saw him, she knew she couldn't back out. She couldn't leave him when she'd told him that she would be there. So she lifted her hand, placed it on the doorknob, and opened it, walking inside the room.

Instantly, she felt James's eyes move towards her. Forcing a smile on her face, she shut the door behind her and walked over to the table. She pulled the chair across from James out from underneath the table, and she sat down in it.

"Is it raining?" James asked without any kind of opening. Alaska felt exposed and open in front of him in a way she hadn't before, and she didn't like it. Pressing her lips together, she looked down at herself, examining the rain spots on her clothes through different eyes now, and she nodded.

"Yeah, it's raining pretty hard," she said. "I got wet out there."

"I can see that." There was amusement in James's voice, and Alaska glanced up to see a hint at a ghost of a smile passing over his lips. She tried to force herself to smile again, but she fell flat, so she just nodded her head and folded her arms over her chest to hide as much of herself as possible.

"I guess it's a little obvious," she replied. "So I heard you had a memory break through yesterday. What'd you remember?"

"Stuff," James smartly responded. Alaska made herself deeply inhale and exhale as she struggled to do what her brother would have done, which would have been reaching over and smacking James.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to," she said.

"Just like you with your hearing?" James asked. For the second time that day, Alaska's entire body stiffened up, and she stared at James with a fiercely angry look on her face.

"You've got to be kidding," she muttered.

"I'm not," James calmly answered, clearly testing her.

"If you're going to attack me over the fact that I chose not to share something personal with a complete stranger, I'm not staying," she said seriously, her dark eyes flashing. "I mean it, James. I'm not going to stay if this is the kind of mood that you're in."

He blinked at her and held her gaze for a few silent seconds. Unwilling to back down, Alaska stared back. She knew he was testing her, but she wasn't going to let him. Just as she was about to get up to leave, he opened his mouth and spoke. "Don't go."

"And now you're telling me what to do," she said with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" James asked. Alaska's mouth twisted to the side, and she shook her head.

"Long week," she said shortly.

"Stressful?" James asked. Without verbalizing anything, Alaska nodded. "Do any of your meditation stuff?"

She stared hard at him, as if she weren't sure whether or not he was making fun of her, but once she'd decided that he wasn't, she cracked the tiniest half-smile. "Not as much as I should have. Actually, now that you mention it…"

She reached into her bag and pulled out a ceramic oil burner, a box of matches, and a small bottle of lavender oil. Setting each of the items on the table in front of her, she glanced up at James with her dark eyes. "Does fire freak you out?"

"No," James answered, the amusement again shining through his voice. Alaska shrugged mildly and gave him a look.

"Some people have triggers to certain things. Just wanted to check before I lit this match," she said. Without waiting for a response, she carefully pulled out a match, lit it, and touched it to the small candle in the heart of the oil burner. Once it was lit, she shook the match out and dropped it onto the table as she pushed the burner out more towards the center. "Lavender. It's a calming scent."

"I remember," James said thoughtfully. "It smells good."

"You like it?" For the first time since Maria Hill had told her she knew about the accident, Alaska felt a little bit more calm. She wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that she was now deeply inhaling the relaxing scent, or if it was because James's face was slowly spreading into the first real smile she'd seen yet from him.

"I do," he softly replied. "I don't know if I feel calmer, but I like it."

"Give it some time. It might work, it might not. Like I said, not everyone thinks aromatheraphy's for them," Alaska said, her eyes carefully watching his face as he took in the sight of the oil burner.

"A memory of Steve. That was my…my memory I had yesterday," James said suddenly. Alaska lifted a hand and tucked a piece of her dark hair back behind her ear.

"Good memory?" she asked gently.

"Good memory," James confirmed. "All it really did was make me feel more confused, though. I don't know."

"I can't imagine that getting your memories back after brainwashing is considered to be an easy process," Alaska mildly remarked. "You've been through a lot." She caught the way his mouth tightened, and she quickly spoke again. "I'm not pitying you. That's the last thing you'll get from me. I'm genuinely sorry that you had a shitty hand in all of this, but I'm not pitying you."

The tension left the blue-eyed man's mouth, and his eyes glanced back down to her clothes. Again, Alaska didn't get the feeling that he was trying to get a look at her body because he was objectifying her—she got the feeling that he was simply trying to look at _her_.

All of a sudden, Alaska's phone started buzzing. She tossed James an apologetic glance, and she pulled it out. Seeing Susanna's number on the screen, she frowned. "Sorry, I know it's really rude to take phone calls when you're with someone else, but this is one of my employees, and it might be an emergency."

James gave a dismissive shrug, and Alaska slid the bar across her screen to answer the phone.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Uh, hey. Alaska. It's Susanna." The young girl's apathetic tone filled Alaska's ear.

"Is everything ok?" Alaska asked.

"Um, the power kind of went out," Susanna said. Alaska paused as she tried to think of what to do. Letting out a sigh, she put her hand up to her face.

"Ok," she said slowly. "Ok. I'll call BGE and see what I can do to get it fixed."

"Ok—"

"Alaska? It's Ella. What do you want me to do?"

Alaska smiled at the sound of her responsible employee's voice. "Hi, Ella. Actually…do you think you could handle calling BGE?" She glanced over at James. "I'm actually really busy with something, and that'd be helping me out a lot."

"Yeah, sure, I can do. I'll take any notes and let you know what's going on."

"Ok. If you go into the back and unlock the bottom drawer of the grey metal filing cabinet, the information should be under the BGE tab. If you have any questions, I've got my phone."

"Ok. I think I can handle it. I'll keep you posted."

"Awesome. Thank you, Ella." Alaska hung the phone up and let out an audible sigh as she slid it back into her bag. "The electricity at the store went out."

"The rain?" James asked. Grimly, Alaska nodded.

"Yeah," she replied. "My employees are taking care of it, though." She looked at the oil burner and deeply inhaled the scent of the burning lavender oil. "I've definitely been needing to burn some of this."

"Why didn't you use an umbrella?" James asked, completely changing the subject. Alaska watched his eyes flick down to her shirt again.

"I don't like umbrellas," she honestly answered. His blue eyes met hers again, and they stared at each other in silence. For some reason, she got the feeling that he was trying to study her, and believe it or not, she didn't mind. She didn't mind at all.

Finally, he squinted his eyes slightly at her. "Alaska Clark, you're the strangest, most fascinating person I've ever met."

Alaska's mouth slid up into a smile, and she tilted her head to the side. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The next half hour passed by easily and smoothly with small talk and nothing too deep or personal. Everything was going fine—so fine that Alaska really began to enjoy herself and relax.

And then the lights went out.


	10. Dark

**Shoutouts to Eva7673, Jo, It. Was. All. Yellow, EverlastingMuse, angel897, chelzwwefan, ChymeiaGiuls, niennavalier, Ladyofasgard, yornma, and thatshippingfangirl14 for reviewing! Yay!**

**Ok, so I'm glad that you guys don't seem to think that this has been moving too slow. I'm always worried about how I write the pacing for stories where two characters start having a thing. I get so annoyed whenever I read stories where the characters are professing their love for each other by the third chapter, so I try not to do that in my stories.**

**There will definitely be a change in this weird friendship thingy that Alaska and James have in this chapter, and I think you'll see what I mean as you read it ;) I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. This chapter was definitely my favorite chapter to write so far.**

**If you want extra emotions, listen to "Not with Haste" - Mumford & Sons. (I know I've already used that for _Girl, Compromised_, but shhh.)**

**Please keep letting me know what you think! Especially after this chapter with the ending =)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 10

A brief second of silence passed, and then Alaska lost it.

"Oh, God. God, no. No, no, no, no, no." Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and she took in a deep breath of oxygen to try to calm down. It was happening all over again—she was back in that car, and she couldn't see anything. She could remember the smell of the woods, the feel of the air rushing over her face as she'd rolled the window down right before the moment of impact. It was happening again.

"Sgt. Barnes? Miss Clark? Are you all right?" Agent Fulton's voice was coming from a distant place, but Alaska didn't process it. All that was there around her was the darkness and the memory she'd worked so hard to put behind her.

"Alaska?" James's voice reached out to her through the darkness. "Alaska, look at the candle. Breathe."

"I—I can't. Oh, God—I can't—" She saw the flickering of the tiny candle in front of her; her mind registered it, and she tried to focus on it. There was so much darkness. The room was completely pitch black.

"Sgt. Barnes? Is everyone ok?" Agent Fulton continued shouting.

"Are you all right?" James asked. Alaska kept her eyes focused on the candle, and she managed to nod, suddenly feeling her heart rate start to go back down. She heard the scrape of James's chair against the floor, and she heard his footsteps as he walked over to the door. "We're ok. What happened?"

He didn't sound the way he usually did—whenever she'd talked to him before, he'd almost always been a little bit sullen and to himself. But right now, he sounded different—as if he were in control of himself and the situation. Had she been feeling normal, she would have put more attention on it, but she couldn't stop feeling more embarrassed than anything.

"The storm. Our power's out," Agent Fulton replied. "We're calling in some of our people to take a look at it so they can figure out how to fix it. Miss Clark, are you ok?"

"Yeah," she shakily called out.

"Miss Clark?" Worry filled the agent's voice, and it dawned on her that SHIELD was probably more upset over the fact that she was in this dark room alone with the Winter Soldier than they were over the fact that their electricity was completely shot. Honestly, she didn't think James was a problem. He wasn't exactly stable, per se, but she wasn't afraid of him. Just like she'd been telling SHIELD all along, he was a good person. He had a good heart, and she believed with all of her soul that he wouldn't do anything to her.

"Yes." Her voice came out firmer, less nervous. "Yes, I'm fine."

"The door is powered by electricity, so we can't get you out at the moment since the door was locked when you went through. We're working to have that fixed right away, Miss Clark. I promise!" Agent Fulton called through the door. Even though Fulton couldn't see her, she lifted her hand and waved it dismissively as she still tried to catch her breath. She couldn't see anything in the dark other than the candle, but she had the faint suspicion that James was looking at her.

"It's—it's ok!" she called back. "Take your time. Seriously. No rush."

James's footsteps sounded back to the table, and he sat down across from her. When he spoke, his voice was quiet so that Fulton couldn't hear outside the door. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"What?" Alaska asked, unable to fully make out what the soldier was saying.

"Are you sure you're ok?" James repeated a little louder and clearer for her.

"Yeah. I'm fine." She shakily ran a hand through her dark, wet hair. "I just…get a little freaked out in the dark."

"That was a panic attack." There was nothing about James's tone that was accusing, but Alaska still resented him for mentioning it. She glared sharply in the direction of his voice, knowing full well that he couldn't see her.

"It wasn't. It was just me being nervous about the dark," she snapped back in an uncharacteristically tight voice.

"Ok," he answered. They sat in silence for a few more seconds. Alaska couldn't get her hands to stop shaking, so she sat on them, grateful for the fact that James couldn't see her at all. "You know, sometimes it makes me feel more supported to sit against a wall."

"What?" she asked.

"You know, sometimes—"

"No, I heard you that time. I'm sorry. I meant…sitting against a wall?" She frowned in confusion.

"Yeah. Sometimes it just makes me feel more supported." James didn't explain anything else. Alaska could guess where the walls in the room were, but she didn't know where exactly they were placed. She moved her head about her as she strained to make anything out in the pitch black. "We can move the candle if you want. Closer to the wall. If you want to try it."

"Ok." The answer slipped out before she'd realized it. She watched the oil burner in front of her move a little bit, and she saw it lift into the air as James picked it up.

"Can you see?" he asked.

"Not really. It'd probably just be easier if I just…follow the light."

"Yeah. Good idea."

Nervously, Alaska pushed the chair back, and she stood up. Slowly, she put one foot out. She'd half-expected to run straight into a wall or something or something, but nothing was there. Tentatively, she took another step and put her hands out in front of her. She didn't know how James didn't seem to be worried at all about running into anything, but hey, she wasn't about to argue when he had the only source of light in the room with them.

"Wall," James suddenly said. Carefully, Alaska stretched out a hand and felt the wall in front of her.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Without another word, she turned her back to it and sank down against it to the floor. The candle lowered down to the floor beside her, and she heard a shuffling sound of shoes and clothes moving as James sat down on the other side of the candle. "How'd you know the wall was there? I can't see shit in here."

"I'm used to being aware of the things around me," James replied. "I've worked in darker situations than this before."

Alaska paused. This was the first time he'd ever talked about anything to do with his past. He'd mentioned a few little things here and there, but never anything like this. She felt silly for noticing it when it was really just a little thing, but for James, it was big.

"Oh," she said uncomfortably. "I can't imagine working in the dark like this."

"Yeah," James replied with no hint as to what he was feeling. Alaska kept her eyes glued to the candle. She felt if she looked anywhere else in the room, she'd be lost in the memories she'd fought to push to the back of her mind. Truth be told, she probably wouldn't have even freaked out so badly if Commander Hill hadn't brought up the accident earlier. If she hadn't been stressed out from thinking about it, she probably would have been able to calm herself down without giving anything away. As she sat against the wall, she realized that there really was something about sitting with that support behind her that made her feel a little bit better.

And then she realized how cold she was. The cool wall on her back was freezing her through her shirt, and it didn't help that she was still drenched from the storm outside. Quietly, she folded her arms over her chest and drew her knees up tight to try to keep in any amount of warmth that she could.

"Shit," she said out loud. "I left my phone—"

"I'll get it." James stood up before she could protest. Shocked, she sat with an open mouth while she listened to the muffled sounds of James walking across the room to her chair, grabbing her bag, and walking back. "I'm holding it out to you. If you just put your hands out a little bit…"

Stiffly, Alaska unfolded her arms and reached out into the blackness around her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her right hand came in contact with her bag, but she took it from him.

"Thank you," she said. As James crossed to the other side of the candle and sat down, she let her eyes drift up from the candle to the area where she guessed his face might be. "This is a different side of you."

"Different?" James repeated, confused.

"You're more willing to take initiative," she pointed out. "I don't know. I just noticed it since the lights have gone out."

"Thank you…I think." There was a hint of amusement in James's voice, and Alaska lightly smiled.

"You're welcome," she replied. She let her eyes travel back down to the flame, and she kept focusing on it. Her pulse wasn't racing, and her heart wasn't threatening to pound directly out of her chest anymore. As she stared at the small candle, she deeply inhaled the warm lavender scent and continued to allow that to relax her. "I'm sorry, by the way. I don't…I usually don't get…freaked out like that."

"Don't worry about it," James dismissively answered.

"Really, I don't," she insisted. She didn't know why, but she felt the need for him to know that she hadn't had a panic attack. She needed him to know that she wasn't a fragile kid who couldn't do anything on her own. It was suddenly very imperative for her to get that across to him, but she didn't know how to express the words without exposing more about herself than she felt comfortable. "I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt it." He paused. "Are you cold?"

"I'm still a bit soaked from the rain," Alaska answered. She heard him shift around and move something, and then she had a pile of cloth in her lap.

"Here," he said. She lifted it up and felt that she was holding a jacket, the same black jacket he'd been in earlier when she'd walked in. Despite the fact that she knew she still wouldn't be able to see him, she looked curiously in his direction in what she hoped was his facial region.

"You don't—you don't have to give me your—your jacket," she said softly. "What if you get cold?"

"I have a higher tolerance," James replied. "Please. If you're cold, use it."

"Thanks." Careful not to get it caught on the oil burner, Alaska awkwardly leaned forward so she could slide her arms into the sleeves. The jacket was warm and comfortable, and it was then that she got a whiff of what he smelled like. And truth be told, she liked it. She really liked it. His jacket didn't smell like cologne or artificial product—it just smelled clean. Like shampoo and fabric softener and clean, human male. Though really, Alaska didn't know what males typically smelled like, but she found it in James's jacket. To distract herself from how much she was enjoying James's jacket, she started speaking. "See, I told you you have a good heart."

"I don't know why you have faith in me," he said, his voice sullen and serious. Alaska swallowed and leaned her head back against the wall, her face still pointed in his direction.

"I told you. You have good energy. You're not a bad person. You've spent the past 10 minutes seeing if I was ok, getting my phone bag for me, and giving me your jacket. That was all really nice stuff," she said. "You think so little of yourself. If you were as bad as you think you are, you wouldn't have done that."

"If I were as good as _you _think I am, I wouldn't have killed all of those people," he flatly returned.

"You were brainwashed. You couldn't help it," she intoned quietly. "I've been reading up on brainwashing. Doing some amateur research. It's not like you could have just pulled yourself out of it. Those HYDRA assholes programmed you to follow orders, so that's what you did because that's the way you were _programmed_. Steve Rogers was…he was like a trigger for you. To snap you out of it."

If she kept talking, she could stay calm, she told herself. If she could get her mind off of everything, she could keep herself from flipping.

"If you say so, kid," he replied.

"Alaska," she corrected. "My name's Alaska."

"Alaska Sage Clark," James said out loud.

Alaska frowned. "How do you know my middle name?"

"Asked Dr. Sanchez."

"Why have you been asking around about me?" Silence. "Commander Hill told me you've been asking some people here what they know about me. Why? I'm not mad or anything. I'm just curious."

"I don't know," he honestly answered. "You're the most fascinating person I've ever met."

"You don't even know me," Alaska pointed out.

"So I can't even begin to imagine how fascinating you are to the people who actually do know you," James said. Alaska felt a small smile creep over her face, and she let out a quiet sigh.

"There's nothing about me that's fascinating," she said. "I'm unorthodox. That's about it."

"Well, you're unlike anyone I've ever known before. I guess that's not saying much since I can't really remember anyone before HYDRA got their grubby hands on me, but…you're definitely interesting," James answered in a quiet but clear, steady voice.

"Thank you," Alaska said back, her tone mirroring his.

"So I know your full name, you like beatnik stuff, pitch black darkness scares you, you own a bookstore, and you went to American University, and that's how you met the blonde dame," James said. As soon as he mentioned her fear of the dark, she frowned, the previous gentle moment fading away and quickly.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," she said tersely.

"Kid, that was an anxiety attack. I know what those look like. Trust me." James's voice was light, but there was something coloring the tone of it that clued her into the fact that he knew exactly what an anxiety attack looked like. "So what happened to you?"

"What?" she asked incredulously. All of a sudden, she felt attacked and vulnerable, and she pulled his jacket around her tighter.

"You know what happened to me. Even _I _don't know what happened to me since SHIELD doesn't tell me a damn thing. Fair exchange?" James asked. Alaska looked away from where he was sitting and away from the candle, instead directing her gaze out into the black space around her. If she slowed her breathing just enough and stayed quiet the right amount of time, she could take herself back to the accident, the panic, the pain. She could do that in just a few seconds, but she didn't want to.

"Nothing," she tightly answered. "Besides, I'm not here to talk to you about me. I'm here to talk to you about—about other stuff."

"Isn't this something to talk about?" James asked.

"No," she firmly replied. "We're not—there's nothing to talk about."

"If you don't want to, it's no skin off my nose," he replied. It was always moments like that when he slipped up and used some kind of outdated lingo that Alaska was reminded of who exactly he really was. This man beside her—the man who'd gotten her phone for her and who had given her his jacket—was a legend; he was a Howling Commando, Steve Rogers's right hand man. He'd seen and experienced and done all kinds of things that she never could have even imagined when she looked at him.

And yet, that was who he was. He was James Buchanan Barnes. He was James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky Barnes, Sgt. Barnes, the Winter Soldier, and James all wrapped up in one person, and she always forgot about it until he called her "kid," or spit out some phrase so casually that it was as if he'd never stopped being James Buchanan Barnes in the first place.

For whatever reason, she'd noticed that being in the dark had done wonders for him. He didn't seem to be as tense and sullen as usual, and he'd fallen right into the part of, well, a soldier. As soon as the lights had shut off, he'd gone straight into protection mode. He'd taken control of the situation and made sure that she felt comfortable; she knew that she'd never had the chance to know him pre-HYDRA, but she had a feeling that that was exactly the kind of man he'd been.

"Last time you were here, you said that we were kindred spirits," James said suddenly as if he were stating a fact. He wasn't accusing her of anything, nor was he trying to coax her into telling him anything she didn't want to. He was just stating a simple, mutual fact.

"Yeah, I still think that," Alaska replied quietly. "Our energies are similar."

"I don't know what that means." James sounded mildly worried.

"It's…it's hard to explain. But you know how people say that they're on the same wavelength?" she asked.

James paused. "No."

"Ok. Um…ok, let me think. Sometimes there are people that you just kind of click with. You can have completely different backstories and completely different views of the world, but when you meet these people, that's ok. Other times, you can have two people who have similar backstories and similar views, and that's ok, too, but…God, I don't know how to explain it. Sometimes you just _click _with someone." Alaska self-consciously wrapped herself even tighter in James's jacket. "Does that make sense?"

"Not really."

She sighed. "Ok. I didn't think so." She paused as she tried to think of a way to salvage the conversation. "Hey, do you like music?"

"I think so," James answered slowly. "Why?"

"I actually forgot about this." She opened the bag on her lap and dug around until she pulled out her cell phone. Pressing the Home button at the bottom, she smiled when the screen lit up. She held it up and looked over at him. "Well, for starters, we have a little more light than we did before."

He squinted his eyes against the brightness from her phone, but he didn't turn away. For the first time since the power had gone out, Alaska got a chance to look at him. He looked more relaxed than she'd ever seen—he was leaning against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him, his right hand resting on his lap and his left hand resting out of sight. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, making Alaska feel a little bit better about having his jacket with her.

His eyes calmly regarded her phone. "That's so bright."

"Oh. Oh! Sorry." Quickly she moved the screen away so it wasn't shining as brightly on him. "Sorry. I should've turned the brightness down. Yeah, it's a bit bright. Anyway, I wasn't originally going to show you how bright my phone can be…I was going to show you…this."

She navigated to the music on her phone and hit Play. The volume was loud enough so that they both could her it without it being too loud, and she set it against the hard floor. The sounds of Billie Holiday singing "I'll be Seeing You" filled the room. For a few painstakingly tense moments, James was quiet. He had heard this song before. He knew he had. He couldn't remember when, but he could picture a dance hall with a live band, lots of men in khaki around him. He could remember always dancing to this same exact song, but he just couldn't remember any more details than that.

"I know this song," he said out loud. "I know it."

"You recognize it?" Alaska asked. From the glow of her phone, she could see James nod wildly and look at her with large blue eyes.

"I do," he said. "I—I recognize this song. I remember dancing to it and thinking I couldn't wait until I broke my shoes in more because they were brand new and pinching me."

"James, that's great," Alaska said enthusiastically. She couldn't hold her smile back as she watched the man beside her listen in awe to the rest of the song. He remembered something. It wasn't much, but it was something. When the song was over, he looked excitedly at her.

_Alive_, she thought. _He looks so alive_.

"I know that song," he said quietly with a slow nod. "I do."

"I downloaded it because I thought you might want to hear some music from your time," she said. "I wish I could say that it was my idea, but I read an interview with Emma Carroll, and she said that that's how she and Steve Rogers made a connection. She downloaded some songs for him while he was still in the hospital, and she said it helped him adjust to the modern world."

"Emma Carroll. Steve Rogers's girlfriend," James carefully repeated, his mouth lingering on the names. Alaska nodded in confirmation.

"Yep. You remember correctly," she said. "I guess technically she's his fiancée now, but…yeah."

"Do you know her?" James sounded shy in the darkness, something Alaska had never heard from him before. She glanced at him curiously, but she shook her head.

"No," she replied. "I don't. I've just seen a lot of interviews with her. Read a lot of her interviews. I think she's a good person. About a year ago, she took a stance in ending animal cruelty by refusing to use any products that test on animals."

"Sounds like the kind of girl Steve would fall for," James said.

"Do you remember him a lot?" Alaska asked.

"No."

"But you just said that she sounds like the kind of girl Steve would fall for. How do you know that?" she questioned. James looked up and over at her with an astonished look on his face as if he hadn't even considered the possibility.

"I don't know," he said, stunned.

"Your memories are right there. They're close, James," she said. "I think you remember more than you think you do. Maybe not specific moments or things, but you seem to remember little details like that. That's good, right?"

"It is." James pressed his lips together, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly as he thought. "It just doesn't make sense. How can I remember things like that but then not remember how I know them?"

"I don't know," Alaska honestly replied. "I'm nowhere near qualified enough to know the answer to that. I can tell you about history and anthropology, but I can't tell you a single thing about the human brain."

James was quiet for a few moments, and he lowered his head so that Alaska couldn't see his face. The screen on her phone went black, but she quickly reached out and swiped it open so that the light came back.

"But Steve's fiancée…she's a good person? She's nice?" he finally asked.

"Very. At least that's my impression of her since I don't know her personally," Alaska replied. James nodded slowly, his face fading in the midst of her phone screen going dark.

"Good," he said. "Good."

Alaska reached her hand out to press the button on her phone to get it to light up, but she misjudged how far away the oil burner was, and her hand knocked into it. All of a sudden, the room was dark again, and she couldn't see. There was no light from her phone and no light from her candle. God, she couldn't even see where her phone was in this kind of darkness.

The panic started to rise back up in her throat, and she swallowed hard to keep it down. She didn't want to freak out in front of James again—she'd already done it once and looked like an asshole, and she didn't want to do it again, but she couldn't help that the darkness around her looked like the darkness from the accident. She couldn't separate the two.

"Alaska?" James's voice came out of the darkness as she started breathing hard. "Alaska, are you ok?"

"Oh, God. I'm sorry—I didn't want—shit—" Her gasp ended with her throat suddenly shutting as she realized that this was, indeed, happening again. Again, she blamed Commander Hill for having mentioned the accident to her. She blamed Commander Hill, and she even blamed James for trying to get her to talk about it. This was exactly why she'd hung up on Shane earlier when he'd asked about her driving, and this was why she hadn't wanted to have this discussion with James or with Maria Hill. It always ended like this or something similar to this.

"Alaska." James's voice was closer now. Not by much but just enough.

"I—I can't see anything—I can't—can't—breathe—" The panic was overwhelming, and she needed to get somewhere that she could see. She had no idea where her phone was, but she couldn't stay like this. Her breath was coming in huge, heaving gasps, and her blood was rushing so loudly she could hear it in her head.

"Focus. Alaska. Close your eyes. Don't look at the darkness. Close your eyes." James's voice was solid and commanding, and she didn't know what else to do so she listened to him. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. She pressed the length of her back into the solid wall, and she tried to focus on her breathing. If she kept her eyes closed, she couldn't see how dark it really was. She couldn't be reminded of it if she told herself that it was dark because she'd closed her eyes.

Slowly, she breathed in and out, inhaling the last scents that lingered of the lavender oil. She could feel James sitting right beside her—he was close enough so that she could guess how far away he was, but he was far enough so that he wasn't in any danger of touching her. Her pulse slowed, and she kept reminding herself to breathe in the quiet as she allowed herself to come back down.

Shakily, she exhaled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Where are you?"

"I'm right here—"

Alaska's hand collided with the back of his as she made contact in the dark. His skin was warm, and it was a reminder that he was there, that she wasn't alone in this awful reminder. So even though she knew she should pull her hand away, she didn't. She kept her hand on his and noticed how he tensed at her touch. Immediately, he tightened up, and she thought he was going to yank back first, but he didn't.

Neither of them made a move, and they sat for a few seconds with that awkward hand-touch happening until Alaska slowly inhaled and moved the palm of her hand until it was touching his. Holding her breath, she waited for him to do something. If he wanted to pull away, now was his chance. If he wanted to—to not pull away, he could do that, too.

Her heart started hammering in her chest again as she waited for him to move, and then he did. He let his fingers curl loosely around hers, his rough callouses brushing against the sides of her fingers. Carefully, Alaska released the tension in her own hand and let her fingers relax against his in return.

She wanted to say something, to do something—_anything_. But she didn't. All she could do was sit there with her eyes closed and her hand anchored to the one thing that was in the room with her. But the thing was, she _wanted _that. She _wanted _to be anchored to him because his touch—even just that little bit of their hands lightly holding onto each other—was electric. It was electric and comforting and a reminder that she wasn't alone the way she'd been alone the night of the accident.

And while she thought about all of this, while she tried to sort out everything she was feeling and thinking, James was silently thinking about how grateful he was that Alaska couldn't hear as well as everyone else could.

Because if her hearing had been normal, she would have heard how loud his heart was pounding inside his chest.


	11. Changes

**Shoutouts to Jo, LilyHiddleston96, yornma, thenightowl57, Harley Visadeat, EverlastingMuse, Eva7673, ML143, RainbowShelby, Sarah, PicoBogue, Thatshippingfangirl14, thecruelworldwelivein, Ladyofasgard, courage-mylittlelionheart, angel897, and marina2351 for reviewing!** **Wow, I definitely think that was the most reviews I've gotten on a chapter?! Keep it up! ;)**

**I had a request to pick up the pace on James and Alaska's relationship, so I tried to do that a little bit without it being unrealistic. If you think about it, James has been brainwashed and tortured and violently dealt with for 70+ years of his life. He's pretty fucked up, and it's going to take a lot of therapy before he's relatively in one piece again. So he's not exactly going to be jumping into a romantic thing right off the bat. He feels a connection towards Alaska, and he can't explain it, and he's definitely attracted to her, but he has a lot of his own personal shit to get through. So yes, I know the pace is a bit slow, but I did try to add in some more advancements. Things have definitely changed for these two!**

**Also, I know I've been teasing y'all with Alaska's past, but I promise I'm going to reveal it soon. I'm thinking next chapter if I decide to write another face-to-face moment with them, which I probably will. I know what it's like to be kept in the dark when you want to know, so I'm trying not to draw that out with you guys!**

**Sorry for the long Author's Note. Please keep letting me know what you think! I know I say it always makes my day to get your reviews, but it seriously does. Y'all make my day so much.**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 11

Alaska and James sat in silence for the longest time, just their hands touching lightly. Neither of them knew that the other one was silently dying on the inside at the little bit of physical contact between them due to the fact that the power was out, and they couldn't see each other, but they were both perfectly ok with that.

"I think Steve and I used to make blanket forts and sleep in them," James said suddenly, breaking the somewhat comfortable, somewhat awkward silence between them.

"My brother and I made blanket forts when we were little, too. Look. We share a similar hobby," Alaska pointed out. She couldn't see the tiny smile that passed over James's mouth.

"You have a brother?" he asked.

"Yeah," Alaska replied casually. "He's older by a few years."

"Do you get along?" James wished he could see Alaska's face, but even so, he wasn't sure that he'd have the nerve to turn and look at her. If he so much as _tried _to move, he felt as though he would ruin this moment between them. What exactly this moment was, he had no fucking clue. He had no earthly idea what the hell was happening between them, but he liked it. God, he _liked _it.

At first, Alaska's touch had been light and gentle. She'd given him plenty of time to pull his hand away if he'd wanted to, but he hadn't. He didn't know why, but he'd wanted to keep touching her. So he'd let her slip her palm down to touch his, and then he'd relaxed his hand just enough so that his fingers curled around hers, and then they'd been holding hands.

After a while, Alaska's grip had become a little bit more sure, and he'd taken the initiative to wrap his fingers just a little tighter so that they were actually holding hands. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his palm—he could feel some small callouses on her fingers, but between the two of them, he knew that he took the cake for having the hardest, roughest callouses. However, she didn't seem to be bothered by them—she just kept holding his hand.

James could remember holding girls' hands in the past. Or at least he thought he did. He could remember bits and pieces of how things felt, but he couldn't remember the details. He remembered soft skin and warm pulses, but he didn't remember faces or names; however, as he held Alaska's hand, he was sure that he'd never forget this. And on top of that, he was sure he'd never felt anything like this before. The way she touched him and held his hand was indescribable. Simply just by letting his skin touch hers, he felt a thousand times better, and he knew exactly why.

She made him feel calm. Her touch and her warmth made him feel relaxed and, well, complete. He hadn't felt that way in a long time—as long as he could remember, which, as he could always admit, wasn't very far back at all—but he felt it when she'd accidentally brushed her hand against his. If he closed his eyes and just focused on how her hand felt in his, he could forget everything that plagued him. Almost.

"Yeah, we do," she replied thoughtfully. "Other than Carlene, he's probably my best friend." She paused. "So I know what it's like to have a brother that you'd do anything for. Who's been there for you throughout all of your shit."

"Miss Clark?" Agent Fulton's voice was back. Alaska knew she should probably get up and go closer to the door so she could hear better, but she didn't want to move. More than anything in the world, she wanted to keep holding James's hand.

"I'm here!" she called back.

"Miss Clark, we're trying to repair the electricity as quickly as we can. Another half hour, and you should be out of here!" Agent Fulton sounded calm and professional, but there was an underlying tone of worry that made her feel as though he were afraid James was doing something to her.

"That's ok," she said loudly. "We're holding our own in here just fine!"

"Is everything ok, Sgt. Barnes?" Fulton asked.

"Yes. Everything's fine!" James shouted back.

"I'll be right out here if you need anything!" Fulton replied. James wondered what the hell Fulton meant because it wasn't like anyone could even get into the room if either he or Alaska needed something. That was precisely why he was in this situation with her—she couldn't out, and no one else could get in.

Beside him, Alaska let out a quiet sigh. "It feels like we've been in here forever."

James felt his throat swell up as he got enough courage to say three words he knew he probably should have just kept to himself. "I don't mind."

Alaska was silent. Deep in his solar plexus, James started to think he'd messed up. He'd crossed a line that would push her away from him, and he wished that he could take it back. But then, without any warning, he felt the warm weight of her head leaning against his shoulder.

"I don't mind, either."

* * *

By the time the lights came on, Alaska could barely find it in herself to breathe. She and James hadn't talked very much after she'd rested her head on his shoulder, but that was fine by her. The silence hadn't felt awkward, nor had it felt particularly wrong or misplaced. It had just been what it was, and that was it.

She didn't know what had possessed her to lean her head against him—if anything, it had been a stupid move to make. He was the Winter Soldier; even though she didn't know very much about the Winter Soldier or what exactly his brainwashing process had been, she felt that it was safe to assume he wasn't used to much physical contact, especially gentle physical touch. She'd risked a lot just by holding his hand alone, and then she'd gone and put her head on his shoulder, too.

And yet he hadn't done anything to stop her. He hadn't gotten upset, and he hadn't told her to stop. Instead, he'd kept his grip on her hand firm but gentle, as if he wanted her to stay there but didn't want to keep her there against her will. But she'd wanted to stay right beside him, and so she had.

When the lights switched on, she opened her eyes and blinked, wincing through the sudden brightness. "Oh. That's bright. Was not expecting that."

"Miss Clark?" Agent Fulton.

"Yeah?" She squinted her eyes and turned her head to look at James. He looked calm and self-assured, only mildly bothered by the unexpected lights. She didn't know why she'd kind of been expecting him to look different, somehow changed by the power outage, but no—he looked the same.

"We're going to unlock the door, ok?" Agent Fulton called through the door.

"Yeah, ok!" she called back. Carefully, James looked at her, and they were both staring straight at each other. Alaska felt more vulnerable than she'd ever felt before under his gaze. His blue eyes were soft and warm and cool and bright and dark all at the same time, and she didn't know how that could even be possible. Swallowing, she tried to think of something to say; she knew she should let go of his hand, but she didn't want to. "I should probably go."

"Yeah," James said quietly.

"I need to see what's happening at the store. I don't know if BGE was able to get out there just yet or not." Mentally, she kicked herself for saying something so stupid. She was willing to bet 10 dollars that James didn't give a shit about whether or not BGE had gotten around to fixing the power at the store, but she just didn't know what the hell else she was supposed to say.

"Right," he agreed.

"Miss Clark?" Agent Fulton was back.

"I'm coming out in a second!" she called. "We're both fine! Everything's fine!" She let out a sigh and turned back to face James. "Thank you for everything. For…talking me down out of my freak out and for…I don't know. But thank you."

"Thank you for…yeah…thank you," James said back.

"I didn't do anything." Alaska gave him a small smile. With her free hand, she reached out and picked up her phone off the floor. This was where she was supposed to let go of his hand, to get up and walk away like she had before, but God, she really didn't want to. She just wanted to stay here against the wall holding his hand and talking. "I should probably go."

"I'll see you on Monday?" James asked. Reluctantly, Alaska loosened her grip on his hand, and he let her go. She nodded and tucked her legs underneath her to push herself up into a stand.

"Yeah," she said. She leaned over and picked up her bag and the oil burner. "I'll be back. You're not rid of me just yet, Sgt. Barnes."

"Ok." Finally, he smiled. He smiled, and it was a sight to behold, and Alaska felt her throat go dry, and she was fairly sure that she was going to never leave if she didn't force herself to go now. Awkwardly, she turned and started walking to the door.

"I'll see you," she said as she turned over her shoulder to face him.

"Yeah. I'll see you," he replied, lifting a hand into an awkward wave. And as Alaska placed her hand on the doorknob and turned, leaving the visitation room and entering the real world again, she thought about how she couldn't wait to see him again.

* * *

"Nice of you to show up."

Alaska mentally reminded herself for the thousandth time that firing Susanna wouldn't be the smartest thing to do. "You guys look like you have everything taken care of. Right?"

"Uh, no." Regretfully, Ella tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear and took a quick glance at Susanna, who looked like she hadn't moved the entire day.

"Shit. What's wrong?" Alaska felt her heart plummet down to her stomach. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with. Her day had started out kind of shitty, and then it'd gotten shittier, but the last hour that she'd spent with James's hand wrapped around hers and her head on his shoulder had been amazing. She was on a high that she didn't want to come down from; however, it looked like real life was ready to bring her crashing back down to the world around her.

"The toilets in the women's bathroom isn't working," Ella replied, her eyes nervous.

"Wasn't me," Susanna piped up. "I swear."

"It actually wasn't her," Ella agreed. "We don't know why, but I tried calling you to see if I should call the plumber, but you didn't answer."

"What?" Frowning, Alaska pulled her phone out to check for any missed calls. "I didn't get any calls."

"Yeah, it rolled straight to voicemail," Ella said. Alaska checked the screen of her iPhone and saw that it wouldn't light up. Breathing slowly, she kept herself under control. Now wasn't the time to lose it under all of the stress she'd been through that week—God, she'd been under more stress in the past two weeks than she'd been in in a very long time, and she hated feeling pressed like this.

"Ok," she said on an exhale. "Ok. I'll take care of it. You know what…you guys go home. Take the rest of the day off. I'll close up the store, and we'll just all take a day off. The power's out, the toilets are fucked up…we're done for the day. Sound good?"

"I'm gone." In a flash, Susanna was up, her bag thrown over her shoulder, and her cell phone out in her hand. "See you tomorrow, boss."

"Bye," Alaska said. She watched Susanna yank the hood of her purple zip up hoodie up and over her hoodie before walking outside into the now drizzling rain. Sighing, she turned back to Ella, who was slipping her arms into her rain jacket. "Thanks for taking care of this. I'm sorry I wasn't here to do it. And I'm sorry my phone was off."

"It's total fine." Ella waved a dismissive hand. "I just wasn't sure if you wanted me to call the plumber or not, so I didn't."

"It's ok. I should have been here." Alaska gave a matter of fact shrug as Ella grabbed her bag and pushed it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, where've you been recently?" the young college girl asked curiously. "You're almost always here."

"I've had a lot of errands to run these past few days." Alaska hoped she didn't sound as obvious as she thought she did. She gave another shrug. "With the whole SHIELD thing that happened last Thursday, I've had a shit ton of stuff I've needed to do."

Thankfully, Ella didn't argue it. Instead, she just nodded and looked thoughtful. "That makes sense. God, it's going to take them forever to pull all that debris out of the river."

"I know." Alaska's face contorted into a grimace. "All the pollution."

"Ew, yeah." Ella returned her face before shoving her phone into her pocket and letting out a sigh. "Well. Anything you need me to do before I leave?"

"No, you're fine. I'm going to close up and then head home to make these last few calls. You should've been gone already, Ella. Susanna was out of here the second I told her she could leave," Alaska pointed out.

"The only reason she even shows up here is because she likes it here," Ella replied. She walked to the door and opened it, turning her head back over her shoulder to call back to Alaska. "Let me know if you need anything! I'll see you tomorrow! Thanks again for the day off!"

"See you, Ella!" Alaska called back. She watched the door fall shut behind the young girl, and she looked around the dark store, trying to take everything that had happened to her that day now that she was alone. Everything seemed to have happened in a blur—first the drive into SHIELD, the talk with Commander Hill, the lights going out, her panic attack, and touching James.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew that something had changed between her and the young brainwashed soldier. The second those lights had gone out, their dynamic had changed. She couldn't say whether or not it was for good or for worse, but something had definitely changed between them. As soon as the power had shut off, he'd been almost protective of her, tending her needs and her concerns, and it'd been a different side of him. Alaska had always seen James as the quiet, troubled young man he'd always shown himself to be in front of her, but God, he'd been so different.

He'd taken control, and Alaska had known as soon as she'd stopped freaking out that that was Sgt. James Barnes in the room with her; he hadn't been the Winter Soldier or Bucky—he'd simply been Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes as he'd acted purely on instinct to make sure that everything was ok. And truth be told, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she hadn't been ok. She'd been far from it.

More than anything, Alaska wanted to call her parents or her brother or Carlene or _someone _so she could talk about what had happened, but she didn't. At this point, she didn't feel as though she could. Well, she could always talk to Carlene, and she knew she'd tell Carlene everything as soon as they were both at home later that night, but she didn't want to wait. She wanted to dissect every move, every word, every little gesture that had happened—she wanted to place a label on what this feeling was, on what this _change _was.

But like always, Alaska would have to wait. She picked up the keys to the store and started locking everything up. As she moved around her small bookstore, she was able to tell herself that at least she'd be able to pass the time with all these phone calls she had to make.

* * *

Alaska missed the sound of Carlene opening and shutting the door. The vegetables were sizzling way too loudly on the stove top, and she was too busy wrapped up in dumping the right amount of diced garlic into the mass of tomatoes, peppers, soy sauce, and tofu that she didn't notice her roommate was in the apartment with her until she turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Shit! Holy shit, I had no idea you were home. God, what are you, a serial killer? How long have you been standing there?" she breathed. Carlene grinned back at her and threw her keys on top of the counter as she hopped up onto a stool by the counter.

"Not long," she replied. "Please tell me that my eyes aren't deceiving me, and you're making stir fry."

"You're correct," Alaska confirmed, smiling brightly. "I'm making stir fry."

"You are literally the best. I could die from happiness right now," Carlene sighed. Sighing, she raised her hands and started putting her strawberry blonde hair into a bun.

"You look stressed," Alaska pointed out. "I'd burn some lavender oil right now, but I'm a little in the middle of this."

"God, don't worry about it." Carlene stifled a yawn, bringing her hand up over her mouth and sighing loudly as she took her hand away. "I'm so fucking tired. I mean, today could have been a lot shittier than it actually was, but I'm completely exhausted."

"What'd you do?" Alaska asked. She turned back to the stove to check on the state of the vegetables, and she stirred them a few times just for good measure.

"We had a lot of meetings on how we need to handle ourselves in case anything like that SHIELD shit show happens at the museum," Carlene replied. "Like, it was interesting because we wound up looking at how places in the past have handled this kind of crisis before, but it was just really fucking long sitting through all of those people talking."

"I'd still kill to have your job," Alaska answered with a smirk. She crossed to the counter and leaned against it. "The power went out at the store, and then the toilets got clogged up. Want to trade jobs?"

"Mmm, no," Carlene replied, grinning. "You can take care of all of that, and I'll take care of making sure I know all the escape routes and policies we just learned today. Did the power go out because of the storm?"

"Yeah, I think so. I was at SHIELD when Susanna called to tell me, but Ella handled it a little bit," Alaska said back. Carlene suddenly sat up a little straighter and started unbuttoning the typical black blazer she wore over any nice shirt or blouse, and she let out another yawn.

"Oh, yeah, you went to see Bucky Barnes today. How was that?" she asked curiously.

"The power went out there, too," Alaska casually replied. "I was locked in a dark room with him without any surveillance for a few hours."

Carlene's head shot back up, and she gaped at Alaska with unbridled surprise. "You're shitting me."

"Nope." Alaska shook her head to show that she wasn't shitting Carlene.

"Oh my God. How did you handle that?" Carlene carefully asked. Alaska knew that Carlene was asking her if she'd freaked out or not since Carlene knew everything there'd been to know about the accident. Vaguely, Alaska shrugged, and she turned back to the vegetables. She didn't want to look at Carlene while she admitted all of this.

"I kind of flipped, but James was really nice about it," she said.

"A, are you all right?" Carlene asked gently, meriting a smile from Alaska, even though she couldn't see it from where she sat and Alaska stood. As driven and blunt and abrasive as Carlene could be, she could be soft and kind and loyal, and Alaska loved all of it.

"Yeah," she replied. She put the burner on low so that the food could simmer and stay warm before she turned back to look at Carlene. "I really am fine. It was just a…a minor slip up."

"And he handled it well?" Carlene asked, genuinely surprised. Alaska nodded.

"Yeah, he really did," she answered gently. She watched Carlene process her words, and then she dove straight in for it. If she didn't say it now, she wouldn't say it all, and she had to tell Carlene. "We held hands."

Carlene's eyebrows shot straight up into her hairline. "What?"

"We held hands. It was kind of an accident, but then neither of us pulled away, and we wound up holding hands for a little while," Alaska said. All of a sudden she felt defensive under Carlene's steady gaze. Letting out an exhausted breath, Carlene lifted her hands to her forehead, and she ran them down the sides of her face in exasperation.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "You held hands with Bucky Barnes. You really held hands with Bucky Barnes."

"I was a little busy with freaking out, and he was being really supportive," Alaska said quickly. She turned back to the stove to check on the food again, and then she tentatively looked at Carlene to gauge her roommate's reaction.

"Alaska, what's going on?" Carlene asked, her voice exhausted. "I get that you go with the flow, and if that's where the flow took you, that's cool and shit. But what's going on?"

"Honestly, Car, I don't know," Alaska admitted. Just like that, she instantly felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Simply admitting that she didn't know what the hell she was doing was enough to make her feel a thousand times better, and she sagged against the counter as she leaned against it. "It just kind of happened, and I don't know." She paused. "I also have his jacket."

"_What_?" Carlene stressed, her eyes growing huge.

"Yeah, he let me borrow it because I was cold, and then I forgot to give it back."

"Anything else you want to drop on me?"

"I also put my head against his shoulder for a little while."

"Oh my God." Carlene dropped her face into her hands and made a frustrated sound. "I don't know whether to congratulate you or slap you."

"Trust me, I don't know what I want you to do, either," Alaska said. She switched the burner off and pulled out the giant spoon they always used to scoop out food. "Food's done."

Moving as if every single muscle in her body hurt, Carlene slid off the stool and slumped around the counter into the kitchen. "I can't believe you, A. I really can't."

"Carlene, it just happened!" Alaska protested. "I don't know what else to say! I was freaking out, and then he was just being…really nice. I don't know how to describe it."

"And Bucky didn't freak out, too?" Carlene asked. She took the spoon from Alaska and began to scoop out the rice onto her plate before she attacked the stir-fry itself.

"No. He was just nice." Alaska felt ridiculous because she kept repeating the same thing over and over, but she didn't know how else to describe James and what he'd done for her. That was exactly what he'd been—nice. "Call me crazy, but I think that he and I have a kind of connection. I think we understand each other more than we realize."

"Did you tell him about the accident?" Carlene's voice was too casual, and Alaska sent good vibes to her best friend for having the sensitivity to try to not trigger her.

"No," she said slowly. "I didn't. I didn't think it was time. Commander Hill told me she knew all about it, though. And she told me that he figured out about my hearing because one of his therapists had told him. But he doesn't know about the accident."

"Are you going to tell him?"

Alaska could feel Carlene's eyes boring into the side of her skull, but she didn't look at her. "Maybe. I should. I probably should."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, you know. You don't owe him anything," Carlene pointed out. Alaska turned her gaze on Carlene, and she pressed her lips together as she shook her head.

"I think I do now, though," she protested thoughtfully. "He could have completely ignored me while I was freaking out or done something differently. But he didn't. He made sure I felt ok, and he tried to bring me down."

"Sounds like someone who has experience with that kind of thing," Carlene carefully replied. Chewing on the inside of her lip, Alaska nodded.

"It does," she admitted.

"So you _are _going to tell him?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."

"When? If you did it soon, I think it'd be good."

"Yeah?" Alaska took the spoon from Carlene and began spooning out her own rice and vegetables as Carlene walked back to the counter to sit down at her stool.

"Yeah," Carlene answered. "I think then he'd feel like maybe there was some common ground between you two."

"What happened to me and what happened to him are two very different things," Alaska blandly remarked as she put the lid on top of the rest of the food to keep it warm. Turning over her shoulder, she walked back to the counter and sat in her usual spot.

"True," Carlene admitted, flicking a piece of hair out of her hair. "But it was shit that neither of you wants to relive again. And if anyone could understand that, it'd be Bucky Barnes."

And even though Alaska didn't want to admit, she knew Carlene was right. If anyone in the world could understand, it would be James. So as she took the first bite of her stir-fry, she made the decision to let a stranger in on a little part of her past she wished she could forget as much as he desperately wished he could remember his.


	12. Secret

**Shoutouts to Eva7673, ChymeiaGiuls, Jo, Guest, Tink508, fluttershypegasus1, Ladyofasgard, niennavalier, yornma, justadream666z for reviewing!**

**OK I KNOW IT'S BEEN OVER A WEEK SINCE I UPDATED THIS. I'M SO SORRY. Thank you guys for being super patient with me. It means a lot since I'm writing three stories right now, and I'm also in school, so it's all a lot!**

**There were some questions over whether this story will turn M at some point since all of my other stories are M, and yes, this will become M. Not for a while, though, because Alaska and Bucky still have a ways to go, but yes, it'll turn M.**

**This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it's a little fluffy, so I hope you guys like it =)**

**Also, the big reveal is in here. The truth about Alaska's accident comes out! And if you've read my Steve/OC series, Emma makes a cameo =)**

**Please keep letting me know what you think! Reviews keep me motivated to update quickly ;)**

**Enjoy! =)**

**P.S., I wrote a oneshot of Natasha Romanoff meeting Kate Bishop for the first time. If you're interested, it's called _Face to Face_, so feel free to check it out if that's your kind of thing!**

* * *

Chapter 12

"You want to do _what_?" Commander Hill narrowed her blue eyes at Alaska. "Please tell me you realize how dangerous that is."

"I know. And I know that it'll probably take some time before you agree to it, but I think it'd be nice for him," Alaska said, pleading her case in what she hoped was a professional, adult-like manner. She watched Commander Hill think it over for a few seconds, and when Hill shook her head, Alaska's heart sank.

"Not yet. He had to be sedated yesterday," Hill said finally. Alaska frowned, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Why?" she asked.

"The arm. That's a touchy subject for him—no pun intended." Maria half-smirked, and then she glanced towards the door that James was sitting behind. "He got dangerously angry whenever Dr. Sanchez tried to talk to him about it, and he wound up nearly hitting the doctor."

"Oh." Alaska swallowed as she processed the information the commander was giving her. "He seemed like he was doing ok."

"Brainwashing is a very tricky process to undo, Alaska." Maria's voice was gentle, and it wasn't condescending in the slightest. If anything, it was tired. "He's been under it for years. There's no telling how long it'll take before he's even somewhat normal."

Alaska twisted her mouth to the side and looked to the door that she was about to walk through. "I think he's normal as it is. He's just trying to find his way back to himself."

"Well, I can't wait for the day when he finds his way back," Maria drily replied. "You can go in whenever you're ready. But be prepared—he's still in a mood after yesterday."

"Wait…what did you mean about his arm?" Alaska asked. Maria blinked in surprise, and she looked at Alaska with curiosity.

"You don't know about his arm?" she asked.

"No," Alaska slowly answered.

"He doesn't have a left arm. Well, technically, he _does_, but it's a metal arm. We think he lost it when he fell off the train back in 1945," Maria explained. "That's why we think he's so fascinated by you with your hearing loss."

"Oh," Alaska said as she tried to think of something to say in response. She'd had no idea about James's arm. He always kept the left side of him pretty well-covered, and it was then that she realized it. Those little things always escaped her, but as she scanned back through her memories, it seemed so obvious. He'd sat on her left side so that she'd been closest to his right arm; he kept his left hand always under the table. He'd held her hand with his right hand.

"Have you told Captain Rogers about him yet?" Alaska asked, stopping herself from walking into the room. Commander Hill paused and regarded Alaska with a blank expression, as if she were trying to figure out why Alaska would be even remotely interested.

"No," she said slowly. She didn't elaborate any further.

"Are you going to tell him?" Alaska asked.

"At some point," Maria said. Alaska frowned again, and she tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear as she stared back at Maria. She got the strange feeling that Maria was sending out some unpleasant vibes, but Alaska couldn't figure out why.

"Why?" she asked. "He has the right to know. This is his best friend."

"Captain Rogers is currently off the grid," Maria replied, her voice edging on mildly annoyed. "He can't be reached right now."

"And you haven't tried to find him? Wouldn't his fiancée know where he is?" Alaska knew she was pressing her luck with all of these questions, but she couldn't help it. She didn't like knowing that Captain Rogers, someone who clearly meant a lot to James, was being kept in the dark as to where his best friend was. For all Captain Rogers knew, James could still be out there; hell, James could even be dead.

"Emma Carroll is keeping Captain Rogers's location to herself. Whether she actually knows where he is or not, she's not saying." Maria sighed and looked down at the floor. "And after everything she went through two weeks ago, no one really has the heart to bring her in and try to get her to confess it all."

"I think Captain Rogers should know," Alaska replied. "What if he's out there looking for James?"

"Honestly…it wouldn't surprise me." Maria shifted her jaw and stared steadily at Alaska. "What do you think of all of this?"

"Like…this with James or this just in general with SHIELD?" Alaska asked. Commander Hill narrowed her eyes as she considered the question.

"Both," she said. "What does a civilian think of all of this?"

"Well, first off…with James, I think it's great that you guys are trying to help him. I think he needs to know people are on his side despite everything he did while under orders. As for the whole SHIELD in general thing…I don't know. It's scary. I don't trust the cops anymore because what if they're HYDRA or some other terrifying equivalent of HYDRA?" Alaska gave a lame shrug, and she looked down at the floor. "It's awful to realize that the people you thought were protecting you weren't doing such a great job at it."

"I understand," Maria said. She paused, and then she nodded at Alaska. "Whenever you're ready."

And just like that, the commander had shut Alaska out as she started to look over more files on the desk beside her. Alaska could take a hint when she saw one, and she took hers then. Steadily, she crossed to the door and turned the knob, opening it and walking inside. James sat at the table with an extra sullen look on his face; when she walked through the door, he barely looked up, but he did just a little bit.

All of a sudden, Alaska felt her stomach turn, and she swallowed hard. She definitely had not been expecting to feel like this the next time she saw him. And honestly, she didn't even know how she felt. Her stomach was jumping around, and her nerves felt all jittery, and she noticed that she was starting to sweat, even though the temperature in the older building was usually pretty cold.

"Hey," she said as she shut the door behind her.

"Hi," James said back. He looked up at her as she walked towards him and sat down in her usual chair.

"How are you?" Alaska asked. He stared at her with his deep blue eyes, and he didn't say anything. Irrationally, Alaska wondered if she'd done something to piss him off. Had she gone too far by holding his hand in the dark? Was he mad about that? Was he mad that she'd put her head on his shoulder? There were so many questions, but she couldn't get herself to ask any of them.

"I'm fine," he said slowly.

"I heard you didn't have a good day yesterday," Alaska said. His eyes narrowed, and his expression became almost a glare, but he pressed his lips together and looked away.

"If you want to call getting sedated not a good day, then yes." His voice was tight and mildly distressed.

"Then yes, you didn't have a good day yesterday," Alaska agreed. She waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. She let out a quiet exhale and then looked down at her hands. "You were right on Wednesday, you know."

"What?" James asked in confusion. Forcing her eyes up, she looked him square in the eye. She had to tell him now, or she'd never tell him at all. And this was perfect timing, too; he'd had a shitty day yesterday because of his PTSD, and now she was getting the chance to come clean about what the hell her freak out on Wednesday had been.

"I had an anxiety attack," she said. James blinked, but he didn't say anything. "I get panicky in dark situations because I get flashbacks to a certain place that I don't really like thinking about." She stopped talking and moved her hands from the table down to her lap, feeling like she'd be able to tell this story a little easier with her hands closer in to her body for whatever reason. "The weekend after I graduated college, my boyfriend at the time and I went on a hiking trip. It was in the mountains, and we were going to be there all day because the trail was a bit long. By the time we got back to the car, it was dark. And if you've been in the mountains when it's pitch black, you know it's pitch black. Well, we started back home. He was driving, and he took a turn too fast, and the car flipped. We wound up going over the guardrail and turning over. Thankfully, it wasn't a direct drop because we both would have died." She paused and tucked her hair behind her ear, even though it didn't need to be tucked. "He died. I didn't. But I was conscious for hours in the dark with no one there. I would have died if it hadn't been for Carlene calling the park rangers at some ungodly hour. Another two hours, and I would have been dead."

"Jesus," James breathed.

"So that's why I get panic attacks in the dark," Alaska said. She cleared her throat and swallowed. "I get flashbacks to that night when I was all alone in the darkness, and I just…I don't know. I freak out. That's why I'm losing my hearing, too. Side effects of Traumatic Brain Injury."

"I guess we both had falls that took stuff away from us," James said thoughtfully. And Alaska didn't know why, but she knew that that was the most perfect thing he ever could have said to her. She didn't smile at him, but she didn't keep her face neutral. Instead, she nodded and felt her eyes soften.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I guess they did."

"Do you still go hiking?" James asked. That was all it took to get Alaska to smile.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed. "I do. Actually, I was just talking to Commander Hill about possibly getting you out for a fresh air day. Maybe not hiking straight away, but I think you'd enjoy it."

"I doubt they'll let me out of here," James said wryly.

"Well, she didn't say yes, but she didn't exactly say no," Alaska diplomatically answered. "I think she wants to wait until you level out some more. Honestly, I think there's no better cure than being in nature, but—" She stopped talking as James let out a quiet chuckle. Puzzled, she tilted her head. "What's so funny?"

"You," James said. He looked up from the table with an amused expression. "You're just so different. You lost someone who was important to you as a result of a hiking trip, and you're still excited about hiking. And I don't think I know anyone whose eyes light up over nature the way yours do."

Alaska felt her face turn a little pink, and she shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm really not that big into nature. There are a lot more people who are gung-ho about it. I mean, I like camping and hiking, but I couldn't live that way forever and ever." She paused as she thought about how to address the first part of what James had said. "I also don't associate hiking with death. And for that, I'm glad."

"I'm sorry that happened to you." There wasn't an ounce of pity in James's voice. Nothing but sincerity. Alaska believed him, too. She knew he wasn't pitying her, and she knew that he was genuinely remorseful that she'd lived through that. So she nodded and looked away.

"Thank you," she said. "Me too."

* * *

"Hi, Emma, this is Maria Hill," Maria said into the phone.

"Oh, hi! Hi, how are you?" Emma Carroll asked brightly back. Maria couldn't help thinking back to just two weeks ago when she'd listened to the news that Emma was dead from having been shot through the heart. It had just been two weeks ago that Emma had been shot dead, and here she was now sounding more alive than ever.

"I'm doing fine, thank you. How are you?" Maria asked. Normally, the commander wasn't very big into small talk and polite conversation, but Emma tended to bring out the best in everyone.

"I'm great, thanks for asking," Emma replied. "Is something going on?"

"No, actually," Maria said slowly. "I was just calling to see if you had any idea on Steve's location."

Emma was quiet for a few seconds. "No. I don't know where he is. He called me last night, but that's the first time I've heard from him. I don't know much, but he sounded like he was in the middle of something."

"Do you have any guesses as to where he might be?" Maria asked. Again, Emma was quiet.

"No," she said finally. "I really don't."

"Emma, I know you're trying to protect Steve. Trust me, we're not trying to bring him in for anything. There's just…something we think he should come see. Nothing bad. But I think he needs to come take a look," Maria said vaguely.

"So something's wrong," Emma said. Even though the nurse was all smiles and sunny dispositions, she didn't let much slide past her, and Maria respected the hell out of her for it.

"No," Maria replied. "Something's not wrong, but something's not right. When's the next time you'll be in touch with him?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. And I mean that," Emma genuinely answered with a sigh. "I'm just as in the dark as you guys are. That's why I went back to Connecticut with my family. I don't feel comfortable being in D.C. right now with all of this conspiracy stuff going on."

"Right. If it makes you feel any better, I don't feel any more comfortable about staying here, either," Maria drily replied. "You're lucky that you can leave."

"Take a shot to the heart, die, and then come back to life, and then maybe you'll figure you should get the hell out of dodge," Emma said with a good-natured laugh. "But no. I'm lucky to get to come home. It'll be nice to be here for a while. Steve and I visited several months ago, but I have a feeling I'll be here a little longer than we were before."

"The next time you do talk to him, please tell him that it's urgent," Maria said. "This matter is very important, and it's something that's of interest to him."

"Ok," Emma agreed. "I'll do that."

"And take care of yourself. I mean it, Emma." Maria's voice was firm but gentle.

"I will," Emma promised, the smile evident in her own voice. "Recovering from a full death experience means I can't go running around all over the place like usual."

"Good. I'll talk to you soon, Em."

"Bye, Maria."

Maria hung up the phone and sighed as she glanced over at Agents Fulton and Caraway, who were both sitting very still with curious looks on their faces. "Still nothing."

"Did she at least say if Rogers had gone to look for Barnes?" Caraway asked. Commander Hill shook her head with a grim look on her face.

"No. She didn't say much of anything. I believe that she doesn't know where Steve is, though. She trusts the remaining few of us enough to know that we don't want to hurt him or capture him or anything, but she didn't say if Rogers was out looking for Barnes or not," she replied.

"And you believe her?" Fulton asked with a frown.

"Of course," Commander Hill tersely answered. "I have every reason to believe Emma Carroll's word. She's been nothing but helpful to SHIELD."

"It'd make sense for her to hide something, though," Fulton pointed out with a shrug. "Think about it. All these years that she's put in working for SHIELD, and then SHIELD turns on her and Rogers and nearly kills the both of them? I can understand if she wouldn't want to share any information about Rogers's whereabouts. Most people wouldn't want to."

"Well, forgive the cliché, but it's a good thing that Emma isn't like most people," Maria replied. "She's got one of the best hearts in a person I've ever seen. Steve being the other one. And call me early on this one, but I have a feeling Alaska Clark is in that group of good-hearted, selfless people."

"Alaska Clark?" Caraway repeated. "The girl who helps with Barnes's therapy?"

"She's great," Fulton interjected genuinely. "She really is."

"Exactly," Maria said. She glanced towards the hall, knowing that just a few rooms over, Alaska was having her visitation session with Barnes. "And thankfully, Barnes thinks so, too."

* * *

"So would you want to see Steve? If you got the chance, I mean," Alaska said. She'd been thinking about asking James his thoughts on the whole Steve situation for the past hour, but she hadn't gotten the nerve until now. After she'd told him about the accident, he'd loosened up a lot more, and she'd watched him slowly unfold out of himself, a sight that had been beautiful to see.

She watched his face go still at the mention of seeing Steve, and he looked away. Alaska felt her throat go dry as she realized that she missed seeing his blue eyes looking at her. She didn't know how to describe the way he looked at her, the way he stared right through her skin and into her heart. Alaska wasn't sure if that were even possible, but if it were, she thought that James would be the one to do it.

"No," he finally said with a quiet finality in his voice.

"No?" Alaska repeated, her voice loaded with surprise. "You don't think it'd help to maybe talk to him a little bit?"

Little did she know, every time James thought about Steve, he thought about shooting and killing Steve's girlfriend. He thought about the broken look on Steve's face as he'd told James that she was dead. He thought about how he couldn't possibly face Steve after that, after watching Steve sacrifice himself for him, even though he had killed Emma Carroll. But he didn't say that. Instead, he just shook his head.

He looked at Alaska, and he shook his head because he couldn't possibly bring himself to tell her what he'd done. He could admit that he'd done some pretty shitty things in the past, but this? Not this. Telling Alaska that he'd killed Steve's girlfriend before she'd been brought back from the dead seemed like something he just couldn't make himself do. So he didn't.

"No," he said slowly. "I think it'd be best if I didn't."

"Ok," Alaska said, accepting it. And that was one of the most beautiful things about Alaska that he hadn't realized until that moment. She didn't push him for anything the way that Dr. Sanchez, Commander Hill, and everyone else did—she just accepted his answers as they were. If he wanted to talk about it, she let him know that she was there, but she _accepted it_. As he looked at her, he saw how beautiful she was just for being who she was in all of her strangeness, and he couldn't help feeling as though he were supposed to have ended up like this; he was supposed to have ended up here in this building in this room in this chair across from Alaska Clark while she looked at him with those eyes of hers.

He hadn't ever met anyone like her—God, he'd been thinking that nonstop since he'd first broken into her apartment, but he was reminded of it every second that he was around her. She was quirky, she was calm, she was funny, she was different, she was everything in between. She was the shades that transitioned from color to color. She was that extra beat right after a clap of thunder. She was a rainstorm. He stared at her, listening to the thoughts that ran through his head. He wanted to tell her that he was glad he'd met her, but he didn't know how to say it without looking like an asshole. He hadn't even known her that long, and here he was trying to figure out how to tell her how awesome he thought she was.

"You're really beautiful," he blurted out. The lapse between his mind and mouth became painfully obvious as he watched her reaction go from accepting to stunned.

"Oh, my God," she said quickly, blinking hard. "Oh. Wow. Thank you."

"I didn't—I just—you're—you really are," he stumbled. When the hell had he started stammering when talking to women? That wasn't usually like him. As the thought left his mind, he realized that he'd noticed something that was typical of a characteristic for himself, and he felt his chest grow a little bit lighter.

"Oh my goodness. Thank you." Alaska let out a nervous laugh, and she tucked a piece of hair self-consciously behind her ear. She frequently did that motion of tucking her hair back, but this time she did it out of pure nervousness.

"Was that weird?" James asked quickly. He saw her face grow a little apprehensive, and for a moment, he thought that he'd put her on the spot too much, but she wrinkled up her nose that way she always did whenever she didn't hear something right. Silently, he thanked himself for being so well-trained that he just naturally picked up on the little things people did so that he wouldn't feel as though he were specifically paying attention to Alaska's mannerisms.

"What?" she asked.

"Was that weird? I don't know," he replied, kind of wincing a little bit through his half-smile. Alaska's mouth split into one of her wide smiles that he'd come to associate with her whenever she was feeling particularly amused about something, and she shook her head.

"No," she said quickly. "I don't think it's weird. Maybe you think it's weird, but…I don't."

"Ok. I don't think it's weird, either," James replied.

"You don't?" Alaska asked, lifting her eyebrows in what she hoped wasn't excitement.

"No. No, I don't," he said slowly. His blue eyes searched over her face, looking for something he didn't even know he was going to find, and then he smiled a little bit. "I don't know. I just think you're really beautiful."

"Well, if we're going to be honest here, I think you are, too," Alaska replied with a satisfied little smirk on her face. Suddenly, James smiled. A real smile that was full and complete, and he shook his head as he looked down at the top of the table.

"You are too much, Alaska Sage Clark," he said. "You are way too much."

"I've heard that once or twice before in my life," Alaska answered. He glanced up at her, peering up at her in such a way that she felt her heart start to melt in a dangerously unhealthy way.

"I mean it in the best possible way," he said.

"Thanks." She smiled softly at him.

"Do you sign?" James asked suddenly. Alaska paused, surprised by his question, and she winced and made a half-shrug.

"Kind of?" she said unconfidently. "Like, I know how to sign really simple stuff but not a lot."

"I was just curious. Because of your hearing," James replied, his tone apologetic. Quickly, Alaska shook her head so that he wouldn't feel embarrassed or as if he shouldn't have asked her.

"No, no, no," she said. "It's fine. Lots of people wonder. I don't wear hearing aids yet, but at some point I'm going to have to."

"And it's because of Traumatic Brain Injury?" James asked. Alaska could tell by the way his voice got much lighter that he was trying to tread lightly just in case she didn't want to talk about it, but she'd found that it was always easier to talk about after she'd thrown it out there in the air. It was never easy to talk about Patrick's death, but she found that she could talk about the aftereffects pretty easily.

"Yes," she smoothly answered. "I smashed my head really hard off the window, and as a result of TBI, I started losing my hearing. It's all been pretty gradual, but…at least I have what I have now."

"But some day you'll lose all of it?" James asked.

"I don't know, actually," Alaska replied with a cool shrug. "It could all disappear, or it could just stop at a certain point. The doctors aren't really sure since it's the brain, and the brain's kind of a tricky thing to mess with."

"I think I can relate to that." James's mouth quirked up into a smile. Alaska tilted her head to the side and playfully frowned at him.

"Are you making a joke?" she asked. "Because I think that was a joke."

"Nope. Not a joke." James shook his head.

"I think it was. James Barnes, you're funnier than you think you are," Alaska said as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "Soon you'll be making jokes like it's nobody's business."

"I'm not a funny person," he protested, even though he was still smiling. "I'm serious. Not anymore."

Alaska's face grew a little bit more serious as she heard the last two words of his statements. Twisting her mouth to the side, she shook her head. "You just wait, James Barnes. You've got a sense of humor. I'm determined to drag it out of you."

"Oh, are you?" James couldn't stop feeling like an asshole for how much he was smirking, but he couldn't stop smirking.

"Oh, I am," Alaska answered with her own smile widening.

She couldn't wait.


End file.
